The Last Star
by Lord of Misrule
Summary: The Minbari war is approaching its end and Earth Alliance prepares for a final stand on Proxima III, the Last Star before Earth itself.
1. Chapter 1

The Last Star

1

7th June, 2247

Earth

"Halt!" The green clad man snarled with acidic vehemence, teeth bared in a grim snarl. "Get into a line!" He glared menacingly. "No you maggots, a straight line!"

Before him twenty young men and women formed two lines one behind the other, clumsily checking their spacing and shuffling their feet into a unified rank. Like the angry man they wore green uniforms, basic military fatigues that served as the day to day clothing of Earth Force when not in action. In previous years these young people would have had three or four different uniforms for different roles and occasions, but recently the EA had just given them two changes of the same simplistic gear.

"I have never, never, seen a more shabby bunch of gutter trash then you lot! I am appalled that you can't even march in time!" The man growled, his arm decorated with three downward facing gold chevrons surmounted by three more arches above them. On his head sat a stiff khaki Stetson colloquially known as a lemon squeezer thanks to its pointy shape. He was every inch a drill instructor, in deed as well as appearance.

"You can teach monkeys to march better than you!"

He strolled up and down the line slowly, focusing on each person in turn, testing their resolve. Most looked down as he fixed his eyes on them, and that was not what he needed to see.

"You have been here one week, a whole week, and you still fail to understand the basics." He snapped off. "I know you do not want to be here, I know this is not your choice, but you are here now! You are my responsibility! You will watch, you will learn, you will copy and you will succeed or else you will die!"

He made his way back to the front of the group, his voice clear enough to easily carry over them.

"Let me make this clear people, in five weeks you will leave this facility. In the past if you were not ready you would be pushed back to join a new batch of recruits. That is no longer policy. Policy is that every able bodied man and woman is expected to serve on the front line after six weeks training, whether you learn anything or not!"

They looked terrified, not of him but of the truth in his words.

"So you have a choice, and it is your choice." The Sergeant Major informed. "Either you make the effort, you decide right now to pay attention, to work hard and to learn what I teach and leave this facility wit the knowledge and skill to fight and survive, or you don't. You leave with the same skills you came in with, you walk out of here a civilian in uniform, then you go into battle and you die. Because believe me, you will all be going into battle, ready or not."

He kept his face straight, he didn't want to intimidate these people or scare them, but sometimes fear was a damn good motivator of men.

"The Minbari are already securing Beta Durani. Our people there fought well but it wasn't enough, the war goes on and we are still fighting, we still need new troops to deploy into the next battle. This is a war of survival people, we don't lose this war and start again later. If we lose, we die. Our families, our friends, our children, our future. It's all gone."

They were all looking his way, wide eyed.

"I know you don't want to be here, you didn't choose this war but neither did Earth! But here it is, and here we are! I know you still see yourselves as civilians, as shop assistants, office workers, bank tellers, traders and all the rest, and that you just happen to be in the army. This stops now! You are one thing now and one thing only! Soldiers! And you will remain a soldier until your dying day!"

He paused.

"My job is to make sure your dying day isn't anytime soon. But I cannot do this unless you are ready to learn!"

He stepped back.

"Now I know exactly what you are thinking. You want to know what marching in time matters? Why does lining up neatly seem so important in modern war? Easy, it makes you work as a team! It turns you from individuals into a unit! The best thing you have out there is the man or woman in the fox hole next to you! You life is in their hands, and theirs in yours! You must work as one, move as one, fight as one and think as one! If you go into battle alone, you die alone."

He inhaled before continuing.

"You are not soldiers, but you will be. A draftee is no different from a volunteer, both of you have a motivation to succeed. When you are out there it doesn't matter where you came from or why, a bullet or mortar round doesn't care if you joined up willingly or not! You will both have the same goal, to live long enough to come home!"

He examined his platoon, making sure his words were sinking in.

"The Minbari are a dangerous enemy, they are advanced, their ships are lethal, but on the ground they die as easily as anyone else! On the ground we are all equal, bullets and plasma bolts mangle them the same as anyone else. If you face a Minbari, when you face one, you have a good chance of walking away if you listen to me!"

He pointed to the stripes on his shoulder.

"I have seen this before! I have fought in battles nobody expected us to win! I have faced soldiers that would turn the Minbari to mince meat and I have beaten them! Once or twice armed with just a crowbar!"

Some recruits grinned, others looked at him with mild awe.

"I am living proof people, when you screw with Earth Force you better be ready for the Rain of Pain! Now, left face! By the left, march!"

He drilled them for two hours straight, pushing them through the same routine until finally they got it, finally they had their timing down to the point where they didn't need to look over their shoulders, they just knew instinctively where the rest of their unit was. They passed lesson one, and while he'd prefer to drill them more he just did not have time. The condensed training schedule was designed to get trained people on the front as fast as possible, quantity over quality, and so the Sergeant lined them up, gave them some short acknowledgement of success, then sent them to the showers before handing off to the weapons instructors.

He watched them fall out, laughing among themselves and clearly pleased to have passed his basic instruction on drill, something most soldiers would have don in the first couple of days. They didn't understand the gulf between them and the old volunteer army, and they didn't know what horrors waited them on the battlefield. The Sergeant guessed Earth Force preferred it that way, keeping them in the dark until it was impossible for them to run or escape. He thought it an underhanded way to treat people who were expected to fight and die for their world, but he had no place to question it. Like them he was just a GROPO, and a lame one at that.

Sergeant Major Alfredo Garibaldi made his way to the NCO's lounge, a pleasant couple of rooms in one of the ubiquitous wooden huts holding a small bar and a collection of comfortable chairs for the various Drill Instructors to retire to when off duty. He stepped up and entered through the front door, his leg twinging after being stood on for four hours straight. He didn't show his discomfort of course, but it was a constant reminder of why his life had taken such a turn.

Almost fifteen years earlier he had been wounded in action, shot in the back of the knee by a Dilgar soldier during the battle of Balos. While not fatal in itself the wound had severed tendons and damaged cartilage, mangling the back of his leg beyond the ability to adequately repair it. Certainly the doctors had done a great job, in the past he would have been unable to walk without sticks or even may have faced amputation, instead he had almost full mobility. Unfortunately he couldn't put weight on it for long periods at a time and had trouble sprinting, and of course could never achieve a glider landing like his Airborne unit required.

Inevitably Garibaldi had been retired, accepting a honourable discharge eon medical grounds with a full pension despite his relatively short service. At first he'd harboured mixed feelings on the matter, pleased to be at home with his wife Sophia and child Michael, but sad to see the back of his unit, men and women he'd fought with in some of the hardest fighting in human history. They were also his family after a fashion, and while he kept in touch it was hard to see them deploy to the frontier worlds while he remained behind.

Ultimately he moved on with his life, setting up a private Security company and hiring his services as a Private Investigator. Using his military training on one hand, and the knowledge shared by his mother as a Detective in the Boston Police Department on the other he'd proven rather successful. He had contacts in high places, access to information through friends in EarthGov that let him crack cases even the Police found tough and on one occasion had actually helped thwart a plot by the Narn Government to split ties between humans and the Centauri. He had even taken on his son and shown him the ropes when he was old enough.

Then the war had come.

At first the Minbari were just a name, an enemy to be beaten. Ships were sent, soldiers deployed, public support was strong as Earth flexed its muscles. No one had challenged Earth Force in over a decade, not since the Dilgar and for all that time the fleet had been resting happily on its laurels and with some justification. The warships that took on the Minbari were even stronger than those that had flattened the Dilgar, and yet it had made difference whatsoever

Unthinkably Earth Force was defeated, more than defeated it had been a slaughter. The Minbari threw aside the best Earth had with contemptible ease creating undisguised panic in the military which really had not gone down well with the civilian population. Reservist were at once called up and plans to initiate a planetary draft set up in the Dilgar war but never used were put into effect. Alfredo naturally volunteered, but his injury meant he was at first refused. It wasn't until later he was accepted into the military again but even then it had been as a second line role. Specifically a Drill Instructor.

He didn't think he was suited for the job and still believed firmly his place was on the front defending his nation in person, however he realised he was at least playing his part in the machine of war, so was content to show these wet behind the ears civies a little real soldiering.

As the months dragged on the age and suitability of the recruits dropped steadily, highlighting the increasingly dire straights Earth was in. Time and again Garibaldi petitioned for a transfer to the front, citing his exemplary combat record and experience as the most important factors, but he was always refused. Then his own son had been drafted, given the most basic of training, and then sent to Proxima. Already Alfredo had been desperate to get to the front, that mission now became critical and yet still he was refused.

He did have one moment of hope, Michael had been assigned to the regular infantry but when he mentioned his father's name had been transferred to Airborne and the 99th no less. While Alfredo was relieved to have his son serving with his old unit and his old friends the 99th wasn't the same as it had been. Like most other units it had been swelled by raw recruits and had many platoons within it that had the minimum of training despite the Regiments apparent elite status. He trusted his old friends to look out for Michael, but there was only so much they could do especially in the face of a probable Minbari invasion.

Proxima was the obvious target for the next stage of the Minbari advance, and somehow Alfredo was going to be there. He had to be there.

"Hey Crowbar, got a drink lined up." The bar keeper smiled, a buxom middle aged woman who ran the place with the efficiency of a machine. "Ice cold."

He dropped on a bar stool and accepted the glass. "Thanks Dusty."

"On the house, as always."

He grinned, the first drink was always free, the blue ribbons on his chest showing he'd already paid for them by serving on Balos. As well as the solemnly respected Balosian Campaign medal Garibaldi had managed to acquire a pair of Silver stars, several Bronze stars and a host of campaign awards and distinctions, including six stripes of rank on his arm. He wasn't the longest serving soldier on the base or the most senior, but his decorations were unmatched.

He glanced around the room as he took a long refreshing draft of the beer, nodding to the three other instructors taking a few off duty moments in the comfortable surroundings.

"Hey Cliff, how's Blue Platoon coming on?"

"Just great." The other man answered. "This morning they managed to tie their own shoe laces with no help from me at all."

"Amazing, they'll turn the war single handed." He joked grimly. "How about your elite Barb? Still holding their hands to the bathroom?"

"Half of them haven't even found the bathroom yet." The female instructor joked. "Once they do they'll be lethal."

"I saw you got your guys marching in step." Cliff observed. "Makes a change."

"Yeah, for what it's worth." Garibaldi shrugged and drunk some more. "Poor buggers don't have a clue."

"They'll learn fast in the field." Barb said. "Not a whole lot of choice."

"Just kids." Cliff shook his head. "The Minbari are going to tear them apart in minutes." He froze. "Hey, sorry Freddy, I forgot you got a boy out there. I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, course he does!" Barb grinned supportively. "He's the son of the Crowbar! The Minbari are probably avoiding the whole damn planet because of him!"

Garibaldi smiled widely, wanting to believe it was true but somehow not quite banishing the sick feeling in his gut whenever he thought about his son in battle. "He'll be good, my old buddies will be watching out for him."

"Definitely, the fighting 99th." Cliff beamed. "Death from above man, the Rain of Pain."

"Yeah that's them." Garibaldi acknowledged. "Good guys, each one of 'em."

"Plus the Minbari don't even know about Proxima." Barb added. "With the beacons down they might never find it."

"Or us." Cliff agreed. "Hyperspace out here is pretty damn rough, kept us out of the way for centuries of galactic war."

"We said that about Beta Durani, and Signet, and Deneb, and Ross, and Cooke, and all the other worlds we've lost. Even without the beacons they find them eventually. They'll find Proxima too, and then us."

He was right of course, it was just easier not to confront such a painful truth.

"We'll be ready for them." Cliff said. "They'll have the fight of their lives."

"Yeah, we'll fight alright." Garibaldi nodded in agreement. "But will we win?"

No one could answer, hope and reality cancelling each other out and leaving an empty silence.

"We still have a major fleet, I saw it heading back from Mars." Barb offered. "Hell of a lot of ships."

"Plenty, but not as many as we sent into Balos." Garibaldi recalled. "And even then it was a close thing."

"We're still turning out ships almost daily, production has never been higher."

"But is it keeping up with losses?" Garibaldi pointed out. "Maybe if we avoid another big battle for a few months."

"All the reports say we still outnumber them." Cliff spoke. "And if it came to an all out battle we'd win just by swamping their fleet."

"You believe that?" Garibaldi wondered.

"You don't?"

"Not really." He answered. "I think its going to take more than numbers to win this one, I just don't know what."

"Let's hope the brass do." Barb said simply. "Or else we're dead."

"Lot of that going around I hear." Garibaldi drunk up. "If we live through this I swear I'm going to give up drinking."

"Damn Crowbar, what would be the point?" Cliff laughed. "Here's to living fast, because you never know when it will stop."

"Life." Garibaldi drained his glass. "And keeping it."

Beta Durani Colony

Earth Alliance Space

Minbari Occupied.

Local space was dominated by debris, twisted and tortured metal rent from the hulls of Earth Force ships. Blackened grey material floated in a wide thin cloud slowly dispersing across the system and eventually into the depths of interstellar space, eternal monuments to the fallen of this battle and this war. Some of the ships and fighters maintained formation, momentum taking the bulk of their forms forward at the same speed with which they died, cut down before they could even break or evade, so swift was the fury of a Minbari fleet.

It was rare for Earth to commit large numbers of ships to battle anymore, usually only when the need was great or when there was no other choice. At Beta Durani the fleet had been surprised, caught unawares close to the planet where they were refitting and taking on fresh supplies before splitting up into raiding groups. In ideal circumstances an Earth Fleet was of little concern to the Minbari, but caught like this it was even more of a shooting gallery.

Beta Durani was away from the main Minbari thrust, no one expected it to be attacked and picquet ships had not been properly posted. It was on oversight Earth Force should not have made, but this was no longer the extremely professional force that had faced the Dilgar. Experienced officers were increasingly rare as losses mounted, the veterans of past wars had been some of the first to fall as the pre war fleet was sent into the first disastrous battles without any understanding of the gulf in power they faced. Those that were left were frequently under trained, ill equipped mentally for the rigours of space combat and prone to slips and errors, especially after long deployments.

The Minbari exploited it ruthlessly, wiping out a full fleet of ships including the Commander of Earth Naval Forces, Admiral Donald Ferguson on the bridge of his flagship, the Dreadnought Charlemagne. The loss of the highest rated Naval officer in the Force had been a crushing blow to moral, almost as great as the loss of the colony itself. No defence had been prepared and only the barest contingencies laid. Instead of a brutal war of attrition as had happened elsewhere Durani had been taken almost overnight with the army as unprepared as the fleet.

On Minbar the victory was lauded and had cemented Shai Alyt Branmer as the greatest of warriors, finally crushing any disparaging comments from the more obtuse members of the Warrior class sneering at his Religious heritage. On Earth it was the bitterest blow of the war so far, a loss that could not be replaced.

The Minbari fleet had long gone from Durani, leaving a small garrison of warships and a few supply bases in the area to mark their presence. Any human assault would be spotted far away and reinforcements could be deployed if required, but Branmer was confident Earth Force would not be making any moves on Durani. He was partially right, for while no offensive could be made Earth was not content to simply let the Minbari live a simple life in the system.

Among the debris, floating serenely alongside a blitzed Dreadnought between the colony and its primary moon was an Artemis Frigate, a common enough light ship in EA fleets. Armed with rail guns they had fallen out of favour with Earth Force as their limited stock of ammunition required an extensive supply train to maintain, while the newer pure energy weapon armed ships could operate far more independently. Despite this the Artemis class could pack a surprising punch, and its solid slugs had proven devastating to Minbari crystalline armour on the rare occasions they hit, making them a very useful vessel among the EA, and a prime target for the Minbari who tended to engage them first. An Artemis posting was usually a guaranteed death sentence.

This particular ship was a mess, its armour shredded, its guns silent and inert, its hull missing about a third of its mass. It hung cold and silent in escort formation with the equally ruined dreadnought, bent metal and internal supports clearly visible through the damaged sections, decks and bulkheads bent out like a stack of burnt cards. The ship had literally been torn apart at enemy hands, but unknown to anyone in the system that enemy had not been the Minbari, but the Dilgar.

The EAS Danube was a veteran ship that had fought its last battle fifteen years ago over Omelos, there it had met a Dilgar Tratharti gunship of the Home Fleet and come off second best. The ship was smashed but the internal bulkheads did their job and most of the crew survived to be rescued afterwards, the ship towed home to be repaired. Ultimately budget cuts meant she was not reactivated and simply dumped in a scrap yard and left, her career seemingly over.

The Minbari war changed Earth Forces priorities, and the old stockpiles and mothball yards were raided for ships, and when they ran out Earth turned to the scrapyards. The Danube had been extensively damaged forward, but her aft section including her engines and reactors were still in reasonable condition, good enough to be reactivated without much trouble. The weapons and sensors required more effort with the entire forward half of the ship requiring replacement, though with the ship yards now at full tilt the work was expected to be done rapidly. At that point however fate intervened in the shape of the EIA.

The EIA had been faced with the problem of reconnaissance in occupied space., normal missions involving flybys had been quickly outlawed as far too dangerous and messages from resistance fighter son the ground were often short and could not reveal the disposition of Minbari warships high above in space. They needed an alternate method when one of their number, Heather O'Leary, had suggested using a little Trojan Horse.

One thing that was common in systems taken by the Minbari were wrecked human ships, common enough to be part of the back ground and ignored. They had no need to study them and could not salvage them for resources, so simply left them to drift. Heather proposed they quietly refit a handful of scrapped ships with sensors and drop them into occupied systems to coast through and gather data from right under the enemies nose. It was of course incredibly dangerous, the ships chosen were barely space worthy, would have no support and most had no weapons and glaring gaps in their armour. It was however also the only plan on the table, and so received the green light.

The Danube had been deployed over a month earlier deep in the system by a cruiser, the jump point hidden behind one of the outer planets. It had proceeded on a pre-plotted course to reach the colony at a specific time on a specific day, soaking up data on the way. Conditions on a fully operational Artemis were cramped and uncomfortable, but on these flying wrecks they were a nightmare, especially as the ship's energy signature had to be kept to an absolute minimum to avoid raising suspicion. Service on these ships were for volunteers only, even in the hard fighting of the Minbari war there were some jobs Earth Force would not force on its crews.

The Danube had held its cover for the duration of its harsh mission, logged, registered and then ignored by the Minbari. If they had been paying attention they may have noticed the ship slowing infinitesimally over the weeks of its journey, altering its velocity so it did not rocket past the colony but instead passed at a reasonable speed. The small group of people within the ship, living in a fraction of the normal space due to power concerns and the massive internal damage had been incredibly patient, and now at last the end of their mission was in sight.

"Crossing Durani orbit in ten minutes." Lieutenant Elizabeth Lockley informed, the intense young woman focused entirely on her display. Like the rest of the bridge crew she was in a full space suit and had been for the past eight hours, the life support having been shut down as they crossed the Minbari at their closest point, doing all they could to remain unnoticed.

"Just one more piece of junk, nothing to see here." Muttered the Commanding officer, praying in those words that the Minbari would be too busy chanting or something to notice the small vessel. Captain Edward MacDougan didn't put a lot of faith in pure prayer but every little helped, especially at this crucial juncture.

"Passive sensors at full." Lockley reported. "No indication we've been spotted yet."

"Stand by on active sensors." MacDougan informed. "But not until the last second, we don't want to give the game away after sitting in this can for a month."

MacDougan had implicit trust in his twenty person crew, and no one more so than Lockley. He wasn't fully aware of her back ground, he knew from her record her father had served on Balos and had turned into a drunk afterwards, finding himself booted out of the Corps to die in a gutter somewhere. He also knew she had been a true wild child, constantly in trouble with the Police with her best friend, a girl Lockley said virtually nothing about even in the close quarters of the ship. Whatever had happened it had changed her, she joined the Force a couple of years before the war and had served with distinction, always volunteering for the hardest jobs. This mission certainly counted, and would likely see her make Commander if they lived long enough.

MacDougan himself had an adventurous spirit, but the war had quickly knocked that out of him. In the past he would have taken a mission like this just to see if he could do it, but now he was here because he wanted closure. Somewhere out there among the wrecks was his former command, the Hyperion class Cruiser Diomedes. Like the rest of the fleet he had been surprised here, but had the presence of mind to roll his ship before it was hit, turning a killing blow into merely a crippling one and allowing him to evacuate. He hadn't seen the ship yet, but he knew it and one hundred fourteen souls of her crew were still out there.

MacDougan left the Dilgar war as a full Commander with an enviable reputation under his belt. His conduct as a Corvette Commander had become a text book example of how best to operate behind enemy lines raiding convoys and ambushing hostile supply lines. He had been given command of a Hyperion cruiser, a rare privilege given the navy was down sizing and command of a capital ship was a prize most officers fought tooth and nail over. During his time commanding the ship he had learned even more about deep space operations and was recognised as an expert on First Contact protocol.

Ironically that knowledge had ended his time as a ship captain, seeing him transferred to the Earth Force Officer Academy while another man took his ship and crew. The promotion to Captain was not much of a compensation. While there he taught First Contact protocols to future officers and gave them a series of ethical and moral dilemmas to solve, ingraining in them that simply following orders like a robot did not make a good officer.

When the war came he applied for a front line post and was accepted, First contact scenarios no longer being an effective use of such an officer. Before he was transferred out General Lefcourt had personally handed him his orders of command, and remarked bitterly that he should have sent Jankowski to one or two of his lessons. The EAS Diomedes had been waiting for him, a fresh ship and fresh crew that he had quickly whipped into shape.

The Hyperion class were fine ships, the back bone of the navy with a commendable combat record. They had borne the brunt of the Dilgar war proving themselves clearly superior to their equivalents in enemy service, indeed they had been known to stand up to dreadnoughts and survive long enough to withdraw or wait for help. Their thick armour and sturdy construction had been matched by potent firepower, heavy cannons that had been made even more formidable after the war, upgrading to Pulse weapons back engineered from captured Dilgar technology combined with human principles.

The ship's combat record ended up being its undoing. So effective had they been against the Dilgar that Earth had greatly reduced the budget for new designs, convinced the older ships would be more than adequate for the foreseeable future. They had received only one upgrade in their lifetimes and their replacements had only just entered the design phase when the Minbari war broke out. The Minbari quickly demonstrated that their armour and weapons counted for precisely nothing when compared to Sharlin warcruisers and their escorts.

Command of a Hyperion had been a pre-war dream for most officers, the usual mission of patrolling borders and showing the flag appealing more than command of a Dreadnought consigned to lumbering around the core systems scaring aliens and reassuring civilians. That dream had quickly become a nightmare, and the stately cruisers proved just as vulnerable as any other human vessel. The conquerors of the Dilgar falling themselves one after another.

After the first couple of battles the Minbari had clearly gathered extensive information on human vessels including full technical readouts. Initially they had simply cut the ships to pieces with long raking volleys from their Neutron cannons, but later they became far more efficient and pinpointed weak spots. A good Minbari crew could knock out a Hyperion in less than three seconds with just three shots, one hit on the reactor in its central block, one hit on the fuel tanks on the engine section, and one hit on the bridge at the front where the tower met the main hull. Even if one of those hits didn't trigger a catastrophic explosion, it would at the least cripple the ship and leave it helpless to be destroyed later. The famous EAS Lexington had narrowly avoided such a fate after suffering similar crippling hits, most ships didn't.

The Diomedes had been luckier than most, MacDougans twist serving to throw off the Minbari aim enough so that his ship did not immediately explode and so that the strike aimed for the bridge missed. It was a measure of the clinical precision of the Minbari that they always tried to hit the bridge first, decapitating the warship and killing the command crew. It was said no Captain survived battle with the Minbari fleet, though the crew was often more fortunate.

The concentration of damage usually left large portions of the crippled ship intact with many of the crew surviving, helped by the extensive compartmentalisation and emphasis on crew survivability built into EA ships. The Minbari had no problem killing crews trapped on ships or wiping out escape pods, but usually there was a small window for crew to abandon ship and try to escape while the enemy was busy engaging other Earth assets. MacDougan had seized one such opportunity, evacuating his vessel as swiftly as he could and just running for the gate. His crew and many others had been scooped up by fleeing civilian ships, and while at one point it looked like the Minbari might have engaged the unarmed vessels they ultimately did not. While they killed human soldiers no matter what, they treated civilians with complete indifference.

Their scans had indeed confirmed that the civilian population centres on Beta Durani were untouched, left to their own devices while military facilities had been glassed from orbit. Small scale Guerrilla activities had commenced, but no real armed resistance was possible despite much effort. The Minbari kept to their bases well away from human settlements unwilling to interact with their future victims. That distance was a mistake and one soon to be exploited.

"Coming up on zero hour." Lockley reported.

"Standby to cold start reactors." MacDougan ordered. "What do we have out there?"

"At least one Sharlin." Lockley reported. "Three or four escorts too."

"How about the planet, got any data?"

"We'll know more when we go active, but looks like three concentrations down there."

"Away from the cities?"

"Yes sir, just like the EIA predicted."

"Good, we can go ahead with the operation."

Strictly speaking the operation would go ahead no matter what, he had orders to facilitate an attack on the Minbari surface installations regardless of the risk to civilians, the war was just too desperate to pass up an opportunity like this.

"One minute, all system checks show green, enemy ships right where we expected them to be."

MacDougan huffed. "Thank heaven for unimaginative Minbari."

He watched the mission counter approach zero, a clock that had been slowly counting down for a month only now, finally, approaching the end. The anticipation was palpable, the culmination of so much patience and the sudden arrival of so much danger. A lot was riding on this, a lot of coordination had been invested and MacDougan was just one piece in the puzzle. If the other pieces weren't in place, or were running even a minute late, he was dead.

The clock reached zero.

"Go active."

The Danube powered up, her sensors first followed by communications and finally engines. The surge of energy was at once spotted by the Minbari who began to respond, the power curves of their own vessels increasing as they slowly alerted themselves to the human presence.

"Confirm one Sharlin and three Tinashis." Lockley barked. Finding the Minbari ships was no problem, Earth sensors could tell something was there and retrieve a rough profile to make an identification. Hitting it at anything beyond point blank range was an entirely different prospect.

"Focus on the planet, get me co-ordinates!" MacDougan ordered quickly.

"Scanning." She reported, the arrays hidden amid the wrecked hull working quickly. "Got it, one military base and two supply dumps!"

"Download now, then push engines to full!" MacDougan proceeded to part two of the operation. "And better hope Bill gets his jump coordinates right."

The Danube began to move, the engines pushing hard against the cold. Far to her side the Minbari ships spotted her and changed course, powering their weapon arrays and sensing blood. The Danube had an excessive ECM package, one powerful enough to affect even Minbari senses at long ranges forcing them to close in before they could also achieve a precise lock. Fooling a Minbari weapons lock had been something Earth Force took a tremendous measure e of pride in, even though the system was nowhere near as effective as the enemy Jammers.

"We've got incoming, thirty seconds to contact!"

"Come on old girl, don't fail me now." MacDougan tapped the chair arm. "You got your crew home once before, you can do it again."

"I'm reading fighters." Lockley warned. "Wait, jump point activating, here they come!"

The mission was a masterpiece of timing, coordinating a ship launched a month ago with other ones sent just a week earlier. Two vessels had been deployed from Proxima travelling circuitously on minimal power around the edges of the beacon grids hoping to pass undetected through enemy lines. Like most missions against the Minbari it was risky, but while a hundred ships were easy to spot in hyperspace two vessels alone moving slowly and quietly were far harder to pick up, even for the Minbari. Their route was planned so that they would arrive over Beta Durani the exact same minute that the Danube went active, and that they would receive from that ship jump coordinates for a precise insertion just above the Colony along with exact location of the Minbari facilities on the surface, data that was fed into targeting computers before the ships even made their jump.

The blue vortex opened behind the Danube and from it raced two Hyperions at full burn, one of them holding open the entry point while the second one immediately opened an exit jump point a few thousand miles away. Again it was a risk, hyperspace physics were still a new study and opening two jump points quite so close to each other was not smart, the chances of them mingling destructively was a very real and deadly possibility.

"Jump point confirmed!" Lockley cheered.

"Get us out of here!" Yelled MacDougan, salvation close enough to touch. "Give it all she's got!"

The Danube had a head start but the two cruisers were moving much faster, still accelerating from hyperspace. If they left the jump point would close, stranding the Danube or destroying it if it was still in transit when the point collapsed. Lockley drove the old ship for all it was worth, the two bigger ships closing astern and beyond them the Minbari.

"Nearly there!" The Lieutenant willed them on. "Almost!"

MacDougan was virtually out of his chair, leaning forward unconsciously as he shared Lockley's wish. "Come on girl! Few more miles!"

The ship made it, clearing normal space with a few seconds to spare, much to the huge relief of Captain MacDougan.

"We're through!" Lockley laughed as she released the tension. "Locking onto temporary beacon."

"Amen to that." MacDougan pushed himself back down into his chair. "Better cross off one of our nine lives Lieutenant, that one was by the skin of our teeth."

Behind them the two Hyperions headed for the jump point, their own missions only half way complete. Recovering the Danube and its vital information was one thing, but after sneaking two ships this far into occupied space Earth Force wasn't going to leave without a little calling card.

"Enemy Frigates approaching range, energy spikes!"

Captain William Hague grimaced, the idea of running from Frigate class vessels still despicable in his mind. Yet these were Minbari frigates, and those three ships were quite capable of taking apart his cruiser with ease. Even if they didn't the Sharlin hot on their heels surely would.

"Are the coordinates locked in?" He asked.

"Yes sir." Replied his First Officer, an able young woman named Sandra Hiroshi. "Batteries locked on surface targets."

Hague hated doing this, he was firing on Earth territory, on human soil, but that ground was no longer theirs and had become a sanctuary to the enemy. His job, like the fighters below was to show the Minbari no ground was safe for them.

"Open fire, drop mines and launch tactical nuclear weapons."

Hague's ship, the EAS Endymion, fired first, his companion cruiser close behind. He had to fire first, as mission commander he would take responsibility for lacing destruction on this colony world. Pulse cannons spattered orange fire downwards, the second ship engaging soon after. The gunfire was focused on the military base, suppressing ground based anti ship and anti fighter defences while the hanger bays unloaded a series of megaton yield hyper velocity missiles. They were small enough not to affect the ecosphere, but big enough to utterly annihilate the two Minbari supply bases.

The two human ships arced through orbit at the top of their barrage, nuclear missiles streaking to the ground in balls of fire and friction ignited gas, streams of vapour in their wake. The pulse cannons tore up the ground, smashing troops formations, vehicle parks and any defences that could intercept the surprise missile attack.

"Minbari cruisers inbound!" Hiroshi said. "They should be walking right into our surprise party."

At the same time as the Danube had begun her voyage, so too had Earth Force launched a few other devices on ballistic trajectories. Fusion mines. They were unguided as any propulsion systems would have been spotted and as such were imprecise, but in another example of exquisite timing they arrived exactly in time to screen the retreating EA warships.

"Nuke 'em." Hague ordered with cold relish.

The mines detonated, none of them sadly close enough to repeat the glorious demise of the Black Star, though one did manage to burn away most of the Sharlin cruiser's drive fin, a very commendable achievement in itself. The remainder forced the Tinashis to break off their pursuit, and that was all Hague needed.

The planet focused missiles hit their targets after a five second flight, easily outrunning the Minbari fighters hastily sent to stop them. The multiple nuclear explosions bracketed the bases, highlighting why it was a poor idea for the Minbari to put their installations so close to each other. The explosions would be visible from the nearest human city as lights on the horizon forming into mushroom clouds, a hated sight but now a small beacon of hope, a signal they had not been forgotten and that in some small way Earth Force was still fighting. It might not be a liberation, but it was a gesture that the war was still raging on and that humanity wasn't about to quit any time soon.

"Confirm detonations, primary targets all destroyed!" Hiroshi reported with glee.

"Take us out." Hague said pointedly, keeping them focused on the needs at hand. "Straight through the jump point."

The Endymion roared through in triumph, the second cruiser on her tail closing the vortex after them and sealing their escape. As a final assurance they dropped a small brace of mines behind them, mines that would be lost in hyperspace within the hour but would catch any pursuer before then. After an hour the EA ships would be long gone and the temporary beacon they were following would shut down.

"We're clear." Hiroshi smiled, turning in her seat to face the Captain. "We did it, no sign of pursuit."

"Well done Commander, well done everyone." Hague congratulated sincerely. "Pass the word throughout the ship, we nuked the enemy bases and we're heading home."

The bridge crew engaged in a few cheers and a round of applause, it was a hell of an achievement and would go down well back home. Hague let them celebrate, any success was rare in this war and while what they had done was an insignificant embarrassment for the Minbari, for Earth it was something to be lauded.

"Comms, get me ship to ship." Hague said after the initial joy.

"Aye sir, going through." The beaming officer said.

"Endymion to Lexington, still with me John?"

From the other ship an equally proud voice replied.

"Yes sir, we gave those boneheads something to cry about!"

"Sure did, it'll be hard for them to pick up the pieces after that one. Any damage?"

"No sir." Commander John Sheridan replied. "Lady Lex is still in one piece, and those new weapons worked as well as we expected."

Following her near death experience the Lexington had been extensively rebuilt and brought up to the latest Hyperion specifications, including the addition of enhanced laser and Pulse cannons based on Centauri principles acquired from the Narn. While still far from a match for Minbari weapons in terms of pure ability, they had given Earth Force ships a significant boost to their range and firepower, something which had made abject massacres more like fighting massacres instead. It wasn't much, but it at least counted for something.

"Very good Commander, we'll jump on the temporary beacon and then wait for the scheduled activation of the Proxima grid."

"Understood sir." Sheridan replied.

"We'll stop off at Proxima, make our reports, then head back to Earth. I think we've earned a week's leave while our ships refuel."

"Looking forward to it sir."

"Good work out there John, I always knew you weren't a one hit wonder. Hague out."

John Sheridan couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "One hit wonder? If he means the Black Star that was one hell of a hit!"

"Certainly was sir." Lieutenant Commander Justin Carroll answered in a quiet English voice. "Not an experience I'd be happy to repeat."

"You and me both." Sheridan agreed readily. "But we showed those boneheads a little lesson there. Try to kill a defenceless ship, get fried in a thermonuclear microwave hell."

"That we did sir."

Carroll had been the Communications officer on the Lexington at the time and like the rest of the crew hadn't been expecting an ambush so close to Earth. When the Black Star jumped into the middle of them it was a swift and brutal display of the sheer level of technology and destructive power the Minbari could command, four warships were wiped out in less than a minute, the Lexington surviving by pure luck. It was a measure of fortune which had not extended to Captain Sterns.

The veteran officer, a survivor of some of the worst battles of the Dilgar war, a man who had exchanged fire with Deathwalker was killed instantly when a bulkhead imploded, driving debris through the ship like a battering ram. It had put Sheridan in command whether he liked it or not, and Carroll had become his de facto first officer.

The destruction of the Black Star had been half the victory, the stately ship drawn into a ring of nuclear weapons that blasted the ship, triggering a critical failure deep in its hull that immolated the flagship from the inside out. However the small squadron of vessels that answered the Lexington's distress call picked up several more Minbari ships waiting in hyperspace, detecting their transmissions as they tried to raise their fallen comrade. Sheridan guessed that when they didn't get an answer they would eventually jump in at the same co-ordinates to look for the Black Star, and when they did they were going to be in for a big surprise.

Using the missiles on the rescue ships Sheridan repeated the trick, deploying dozens of nuclear weapons of various sizes in and around the Black Stars initial jump point, seeding the asteroids, the wrecks, even pieces of the Black Star itself. Sure enough after a day of waiting the Minbari warships jumped in exactly where predicted, arriving right into a pre planned kill zone with no warning or preparation. It was a massacre, coming out of hyperspace the Sharlin's were sensor blind and their jump engines were operating at full power, a volatile combination that was easily destabilised by the wave of nuclear blasts. One of the ships made it out, venting air and plasma as it turned and ran, the human ships not quick enough to hunt it down.

It was a clear victory, the one time the Minbari had lost more tonnage in a battle than Earth Force, even though the EA had still bled for it. Sheridan became a hero, his name and deed broadcast galaxy wide and of course picked up by the Minbari. They regarded him with a level of hatred surpassed only by the Shadows themselves, and it became a stated war aim of the Warrior Caste to bring him death. Sheridan was flattered.

After a couple of extremely covert missions Sheridan found himself back on the Lexington, his quick witted thinking and resourcefulness had given him a role in General Lefcourt's Long Range Raiding Group. When it became obvious stand up fights were a terrible idea Earth Force had begun adopting Guerrilla tactics on a starship scale, deploying small groups of raiders behind enemy lines to raid supplies, hit convoys, basically do whatever they could to slow the advance and buy Earth some time to create a viable defensive strategy. The ships chosen for the mission were the best, the most independently minded and creative who could operate far from home without orders for months at a time, in the case of Captain Jack Maynard that deployment was 18 months and counting with no sign he'd be back anytime soon.

The men and women chosen for these missions would have been commanding Explorer ships in peacetime and during the course of the war had discovered many new worlds that would never make it onto the official star maps. Some were turned into bases to support the raiders, others were mined for valuable materials, and one deep beyond human space was being prepared as Eden, the final hidden refuge of humanity if the war should reach Earth and destroy the cradle of man kind.

Sheridan had been a wise choice and had constantly out foxed the Minbari, further enhancing the utter hatred felt by most of the Warrior Caste. They viewed these raids as without honour and had a hard time adapting to match them, the concept of Guerrilla war utterly alien to their sensibilities. If they considered him a nuisance before that estimation increased vastly when Sheridan teamed up with Captain William Hague, the other hero of the Long Range Raiders.

Together the two officers had formulated new strategies, enacted a massively complex deception campaign designed to keep the Minbari constantly looking over their shoulders, and on several occasions had actually penetrated Minbari space itself and knocked out a handful of bases within their borders. The sheer level of rage those missions had caused was hard to fully estimate, but it amused Sheridan and his crew no end. He figured the Minbari hated his guts anyway, so anything else he did to annoy them was just a bonus and he went out of his way to let the Minbari know exactly who it was that ran rings around them. He had even gone so far as to leave a calling card, a beacon painted with a Tiger chewing up an image of the Black Star. It had the desired effect.

The Raiders, or as they were better known among themselves 'Bill's Marauders' were fighting their own war with the Minbari largely separate from the formal command structure. The dozen ships of the group had their own bond of comradeship, their own customs and traditions, their own awards, even their own slang and jargon. They were utterly loyal to one another and devoted to defending and embodying the greater qualities of Earth. They had taken enormous risks on a nearly daily basis and knew they were the closest thing to a success Earth Force had. In terms of pure materiel contributions their operations had only a slight affect on the course of the war, but in terms of morale, both human and Minbari, their contribution had a significant effect one way or another.

"All told sir," Commander Carroll remarked conversationally. "I'd rather have our job than the Danube's."

Sheridan smiled. "Yeah, poor old Mackie, I bet he's freezing his ass off on that tin can."

"A whole month squeezed into just a dozen rooms. Must have been like the early Mars missions."

"Must have been." The Commanding officer agreed. "And just as daring."

"I assume sir you noticed the crew roster on the Danube?" Carroll broached the subject carefully.

"If you're referring to Lieutenant Lockley, then yeah, I noticed." Sheridan answered plainly. "That was a few years ago now Justin."

"Yes sir, no implication." The officer replied quickly. "Just good to see we brought that ship home in one piece."

Sheridan nodded. "Yeah, yeah that is a damn good bit of news."

His relationship with Elizabeth Lockley had not been the smartest move of his life, but like pretty much everything else he had done it had seemed like a good idea at the time. He could still recall the look of utter horror on his parents faces when he informed them he had been married. In Vegas. By Elvis. While just a little bit completely drunk.

He had affection for Lockley, and he sure as hell respected her as a forthright officer with absolutely no sense of fear. She'd tasted the worst life had to offer and after that there was nothing left that would scare her. It made her a brave soldier and fearless leader, but it also made her almost impossible to live with, especially when Sheridan's personality tended to clash with hers in a series of blazing rows that could have melted lead.

While both of them were in the same fleet he hadn't met her, indeed he'd gone well out of his way to avoid crossing paths with his old flame, the end of their brief marriage still quite an open wound to them both. Sheridan had moved on, meeting a bright young biologist on Mars during his first operational deployment on the Moon-Mars run. Lockley, as far as he could tell, had not and was just as much of a spitfire as before.

But she was also alive, and that made Sheridan a happy man, even if he didn't strictly speaking want to have a reunion, one that would almost certainly cost him parts of his anatomy that could not be replaced.

"Well one thing is for sure." Sheridan beamed. "There are going to be some very angry boneheads out there tonight."


	2. Chapter 2

2

18 Months earlier

January 2246

Geneva, Earth

"This isn't going to happen, no way, I won't allow it!" Senator Henry Brogan snarled, his face red with anger and frustration. "Exactly who the hell do they think they are?"

He paced up and down the room, the simple living quarters with increase rage, the annoyance and outrage boiling within him like a pressure cooker.

"This isn't justice!" He said firmly. "It's a damn circus! A media show to deflect blame, that's the bottom line!"

Sat on the couch in the same room, hunched over and paying only scant attention to the rant was Michael Jankowski, at one time a Captain in Earth Force and now stripped of rank, bereft of decorations and regarded by almost all of humanity as the most vilified and hated creature on the planet.

"They aren't getting away with this." Brogan grunted again. "No way, they do not know who they are dealing with!"

Jankowski was under house arrest, locked in his quarters with two guards on the door at all times. Not only was he confined to his apartment, but the entire block had been emptied, the fifty other officers who would have also lived there given other rooms in a different building ostensibly for their own safety. Security was expecting vigilante attacks on Jankowski constantly and didn't want any innocent and valuable personnel killed or injured as collateral damage. It had not reassured Jankowski of his own safety, but by now he couldn't care less.

It had been two months since the Prometheus incident, two months since he had been drawn in by the Minbari ships and forced to fight his way out. Two months since the war started. It hadn't been his fault, the Minbari had tricked him, lured him in and tried too seize his ship and crew for heaven knew what. He had defended himself and had done so effectively, killing one of the nefarious Minbari leaders.

It was all a set up, clearly the Minbari wanted a war and engineered this situation. He was just a scapegoat, why didn't anyone else see that? It wasn't his fault.

Jankowski had repeated that defence time and again, and each time he said it the more hollow it became, the cheaper it sounded. In the end even he didn't believe it anymore. He fumbled, he took an unnecessary risk because he wanted fame and glory and promotion. The whole mission had been one big opportunity to make a name for himself, to create a reputation.

It gave him a reputation alright, one that hung about his neck like a chained weight.

"You did what anyone in your position would do!" Brogan stated confidently. "They can't blame you for that!"

"I shouldn't have been there." Jankowski managed to croak quietly. "I made this happen."

Brogan stormed over and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, violently forcing him to look up.

"You never, never say that! Hear me? Never!"

He let him go and went back to pacing.

"They aren't even bothering with the law anymore! To hell with that! We'll get you a fair trial, and a fair trail will never convict, not with the lawyers I can afford!"

"I'm ready for whatever they decide."

Brogan sneered at the broken officer. "You drop the defeatist attitude right now Mike. This isn't just you on trial, if you go down you take a lot of other people with you. Me included."

Jankowski shook his head. "So that's the bottom line? You are helping me to save yourself?"

"You're my son in law." Brogan said. "And yes, I've invested a lot of effort into you. I made your career, I set you on the path towards becoming a General, and I am not throwing that away." He glared at the man. "And neither are you."

Brogan sighed loudly. His fortunes had been waning lately and the political power he had accumulated over decades was decreasing rapidly. He had been Secretary of State under the Hauser Administration and was a viable candidate to succeed him as President. That dream had failed to materialise, his support drying up at the last minute and allowing Elizabeth Levy, the former Vice President to move into the top job. To make matters even worse his old rival Karl Durban, the former EIA chief had taken the role of Vice President from under Brogans nose.

He had been fuming, but worse was to come when Levy shuffled her cabinet and retired Brogan from his role as Secretary of State, replacing him with some jumped up diplomat called David Sheridan. He was furious, and had immediately called in his backers, and not the ones he knew from the Senate.

Henry Brogan was a man of many contacts, he had friends in all aspects of government life from the navy to the EIA to the Senate, but of all his contacts by far the most valuable was a young French girl called Clare. On the surface she looked utterly inoffensive, a low level telepathic clerk in the PsiCorps. It was all a façade, she was in fact a full P12 PsiCop but more than that she took her orders not from the Corps but from an organisation buried so deep and dark it had taken Brogan eight years just to find a name. Bureau 13.

He knew virtually nothing about them, the only thing he knew for certain was that the Bureau had the power to make or break anyone, even someone as highly ranked as Brogan himself. They had promised to help him achieve power in exchange for certain favours he had been able to perform in the Senate. Brogan had done his part, but the Bureau seemed to be reneging on theirs. Brogan began pulling strings of his own, calling on his own resources to rebuild his influence in government. One such scheme had involved elevating his son in law through the ranks of Earth Force to give Brogan a louder voice in military matters. That plan had back fired spectacularly.

This was not the first time Michael Jankowski had been in trouble. At the start of the Dilgar war he had triggered a shooting conflict before Earth Force was properly placed to intervene, forcing Admiral Hamato to commit to battle with his local forces or completely lose all pretence of surprise. Jankowski was removed from duty and court martialled, though ultimately Earth's success in the war saved the officer from a dishonourable discharge. Brogan hired an incredible legal team that managed to get all charges dropped, and not by honest means, and allowed Jankowski to remain in the Force albeit commanding a desk in the payroll office.

Over the years Brogan positioned Jankowski so that he would eventually be placed back in command of a ship, hailing him the hero of Markab whose prompt actions saved millions of lives by making the EA intervene just in time to prevent Jha'dur bombing the planet. It eventually worked and Jankowski took the Prometheus, a veteran Heavy Cruiser assigned to the Exploration division. After that it was childs play to ensure the next big exploration mission went to the Prometheus, and that Jankowski would have credit for being the first human to investigate Minbari space.

Brogan did not even pause to ask himself if his son in law actually had what it took to run the mission, he only cared about the reflected prestige he would gain.

For the second time he had been forced to deploy damage control, concocting a story that the Minbari were to blame and that Jankowski was just doing his job in difficult circumstances. Like the Dilgar war he expected early successes to shift the focus away from how the war started and simply let the controversy be buried under news of Earth Force victories. But there were no victories, only defeat after defeat. It took a while for the full extent of the defeats to filter through, but when news broke that the entire Third Fleet had been wiped out to the last ship, the best combat force in the entire Alliance was gone with barely a single enemy kill, then the public had begun to look for someone to blame.

Jankowski was clearly doomed, Earth Force released the transcript of the First Contact to the media and the Captain's faults became immediately known. He was doomed, and Brogan had no hesitation in cutting his ties and throwing his son in law to the wolves. Unfortunately someone had discovered and then leaked details of Brogans involvement as the driving force behind Jankowski's assignment which had tarred the Senator with the same brush. If Jankowski went down Brogan was going with him, so to save himself he had to save the Captain. It was looking like an impossible task, and Brogan could see his dreams of power slipping away by the second. He was not best pleased.

"We are going to fight this all the way!" He snarled harshly. "Every single step!"

Anything further he was going to say was cut off by the sound of latches retracting from the front door, the recently reinforced portal designed to keep enraged people out as much as to keep Jankowski in. it swung open to reveal two men, neither of them were welcome in the house.

"What the hell do you want?" Brogan demanded. "Come to gloat?"

Victor Chapel did not answer, the dark suited Director of the EIA simply entered the living room and took in the scene, noting the location of the surveillance cameras around the room. While he was now middle aged Chapel maintained a strong physique, a reminder of his violent history as a field agent. The other man was even more grim looking, hard faced and scarred he also wore a business suit but would have been better suited to a military uniform.

"Who's your friend?" Brogan huffed. "Too scared to come alone? Had to bring yourself a guard dog?"

Chapel remained impassive as he placed himself in an armchair near the door, his associate standing at his side without so much as changing expression at Brogan's jibes. From within his pocket Chapel took out a small device, an electronic jammer, and activated it with a whine.

"No surveillance." Chapel spoke at last in his gravely voice. "Just us four in this room."

"What do you want?" Brogan asked, hiding curiosity.

"I'm here to hand you a deal." Chapel said.

"A deal?" Brogan smiled. "Scared about going to trial?"

"This isn't going to make it to trial." Chapel said flatly. "Not an issue."

"It will go to trial, I'll make sure of it." Brogan said. "A public trial where we can air all our little secrets. Longer it goes, the worse it will be."

Chapel regarded him coldly. "All that will do is harm Earth."

"I don't really care. Clear him fast or it's going to be a nightmare for the EIA. You'd be surprised how much I know about your operations."

"That might have worked before, but not anymore." Chapel shook his head. "We're getting our asses kicked, Jankowski is to blame. Ten billion people want to see justice done and I'm going to deliver."

"We'll see about that."

"It doesn't matter, he's finished." Chapel glared at the officer. "I'm not here for him."

Brogan paused. "That a fact?"

"My deal is for you Harry." Chapel said. "Like it or not I'm the only thing standing between you and a fate worse than death."

The Senator laughed. "Very good, real theatrical. Try again."

"You're about ten minutes away from a one way trip to Teep town." Chapel continued. "Seems someone in PsiCorps is pissed with you, and I mean really pissed."

Brogan huffed in derision, but inside was beginning to feel really, really nervous.

"What can they do? I'm a Senator."

"It isn't going to make any difference." Chapel shook his head. "I have it from a trusted source they are coming for you, and they will make you disappear."

"I'm too high profile."

"After what's happening out there, no, that won't save you."

Inside Brogan believed it, but he had his own resources, he wasn't about to accept help from the EIA of all people.

"Well appreciate the warning Director, selfless as it was." He mocked. "I guess I better be going then."

Chapel's associate moved to block the door.

"No Senator, I don't think so." Chapel said. "You see I have a little bone to pick with you. Several really, and on top of that you haven't heard my deal."

"Alright Vic, what is your deal?"

"Easy, you come clean. You tell us what you know, all the dirty deals you have, all the little cliques and secret societies you are in cahoots with, and in return we take you somewhere safe."

"To live in hiding until I die?"

Chapel shrugged. "Better than the alternative."

"And if I refuse?"

"I'll hand you over to Psi Corps myself."

Brogan grinned. "Now I know you're bluffing. You hate Psi Corps Vic! You'd never work with them! Never give them what they want!"

Chapel kept a straight face. "Wrong. You see I also want you gone, and this way it happens with no blood on my hands. Now you're right, I hate the Psi Corps, I think they're jumped up fascists who think they run the planet. But to beat them I need one thing, you have to take the deal."

"Rough choice, hide out with you or die. You know it's hard to decide which is worse."

"Think fast Harry, clock's ticking."

Brogan smiled thinly, his mind working through the possibilities.

"Know what I think Vic? I think you're bluffing."

"You think wrong." Chapel replied deadpan.

"I think you need what I know, and you'll pull any trick to get it." Brogan shook his head. "I'm in no danger, you just want me out of the way so I can't run any trial."

"You just aren't getting it are you?" Chapel sighed. "You stepped on too many toes, blew too many plans with this war. You're finished."

"I'm too valuable to these people Vic, they need me."

"So I guess that's why everyone has rallied to support you." Chapel grinned. "Oh, wait, let me push through this ground of friends you've got surrounding you."

"Yeah, funny Vic."

"Your so called friends have hung you out to dry. They do what rats do best, they jumped off the sinking ship."

"Some of them, but not my real friends."

"No, you're right, they haven't left you. In fact they'll be here in a few minutes."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know the sort of circles you've been running in." Chapel replied. "And I know people like that don't leave loose ends hanging around untied."

"Trying to scare me?"

"You're already scared." Chapel pointed out simply. "Because you know I'm right. Why don't you examine your options, what are you going to do?"

"You think I don't have plans Vic?"

"What can you do? Run? Hide?" Chapel asked. "We both know you won't get far."

"If that's true what makes you think you can help?" Brogan wondered. "These people, they know everything you're doing."

"Not everything."

"The EIA are a bunch of idiot amateurs compared to them, and we both know it."

"I wouldn't write us off so quick." Chapel said. "Come with me."

Beside him the other agent touched his ear, receiving a transmission. He merely nodded.

"Looks like your friends are here." Chapel remarked. "Last chance."

"No Vic, nice try, but no."

The Senator folded his arms.

"You see they owe me some favours, and I think now's the time to get some of tem delivered."

"Doesn't work that way, they aren't here to rescue you."

"Yes they are Vic, and you want to prevent it. One last desperate gamble for information. I'm not buying it Vic." He snorted. "Karl was better at this than you are."

"Your funeral." Chapel shrugged. "If you're lucky."

"Game over Vic, talk to your friends, get them to make this trial go away, blame the Minbari."

"Come out of the fantasy Harry, look around you." Chapel said still calm as ever. "No one is walking away from this."

The door unlocked again.

"Actually Vic, I'm about to do just that."

Once again the door opened, this time revealing a diminutive man dressed entirely in black, the only colour coming from the silver and gold badge pinned to his chest, the emblem of the Psi Corps.

"Senator Brogan, we knew you'd be here." The man smiled sickly sweet. "My Name is Alfred Bester, I'm here to escort you to a safe location. There have been a number of threats made regarding your life. Considering the good work you have done in the past for us it would be wrong of us just to leave you unprotected."

Brogan bowed his head. "Thank you Mr Bester, your regard for my health is much appreciated."

Bester glanced over the room with a smile. "Director Chapel, so good to meet you again."

"Morning Al, how's the head? Nasty fall down those stairs you had."

"Just fine, thank you for your concern." Bester answered. "I will find the man who pushed me."

Chapel hid a smile. "I've narrowed the list of suspects to sixteen billion, I'll forward it to you."

"I'll remember how helpful you've been." The Psi Cop said with insincerity. "Mr Senator, a car is waiting."

"What about Mike?" Brogan looked down at Jankowski, still on the verge of catatonia.

"I'm afraid we only have room for one." Bester said. "We can take him instead?"

"No." Brogan answered a little quickly. "That won't be necessary."

"We should go then."

Brogan pulled his jacket down over his shoulders, gave a parting glance to his son in law, then left him behind without a though.

"Good by Vic, see you later." He grinned as he walked to the door.

"No Harry, you never will." Chapel gave a simple wave. "Better take a cold drink, I hear it's pretty damn hot where you're going."

Two more Psi Cops were waiting outside the door, they fell in beside Brogan and walked him down the corridor to the stairs and then out of sight, leaving Chapel and Bester staring after him.

"Off the record." Chapel said. "What will you do to him?"

"Out of my hands." Bester replied smugly. "He's got enemies way beyond you or me."

"Now I know you have more information than that."

Bester nodded. "I'm just a Psi Cop Director Chapel, what could I know of such things?"

"Theoretically." Chapel said.

"Theoretically? I'd say he's going to be driven to a very quiet room where some very scary people are going to take a trip in his mind." Bester stated with no emotion. "I suspect they'll then implant a few living nightmare sin his consciousness and see how long it take shim to die from just screaming. Quite remarkable, I hear you scream so hard it shreds your throat and you drown in blood. Should be interesting to see if its true. In theory."

"In theory." Chapel nodded.

"If it was true, would you try to stop it?"

Chapel stepped back into the doorway, expression blank. "Let him rot."

He slammed the door shut, leaving a grinning Bester to trot along after his friends. He left the building and found two black cars waiting outside, one for Brogan and one for the rest of the team.

"This is yours Mr Senator." Bester walked up and opened the door for him. "You won't have to worry anymore, you are in our hands now."

"I like the sound of that." Brogan grinned and ducked in, finding another person already waiting for him. He recognised her at once as Clare, the blond haired agent sat comfortably in the care.

"Welcome." She said as the door closed and the vehicle set off.

"I knew you'd come through." Brogan said happily. "You have a safe house for me?"

"Very safe." She nodded. "No one will find you there."

"Great, now about my family."

"We will deal with them, depending on what you have told them."

Brogan frowned. "I don't understand?"

"If you have informed them about us Senator, we will have to take steps to make sure such information remains discrete." Clare remarked smoothly. "I pray for their sakes you have kept quiet."

He swallowed hard. "You didn't come to protect me did you?"

"We protect ourselves and Earth, you have jeopardised both mon cherie." She commented calmly.

"Leave my family alone, please." Brogan said with increasing despair. "Your secret dies with me."

"Yes it does Senator." Clare said. "That you can be sure of."

Chapel saw the cars driving away, slightly annoyed to have lost such a source of information, but not in the least bit sorry for the man himself. As the main architect of the fiasco Brogan got all he deserved, but while justice was catching up Harry Brogan there was still the matter of Jankowski.

He turned away from the window and grabbed a chair, dragging it in front of Jankowski on the other side of a coffee table. The officer barely noticed him, his uniform jacket hanging open and his badges of rank slanted at an unkempt angle. He looked like hell, and damn well deserved it.

"Just us now Mike, don't mind if I call you Mike?" Chapel began. "I thought you might want a little update. Fifty thousand."

Jankowski's haggard eyes moved up. "What?" he managed weakly.

"Fifty Thousand. That's how many people are dead because of you." Chapel delivered simply. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Peace negotiations have broken down, the Minbari are expanding their offensive and we haven't got jack that can stand up to them. We tried to negotiate, we tried to plead, we even offered to Surrender. They don't care, they want us dead. Thanks Jankowski, really, thanks."

The Captain barely responded, he had no emotion left.

"You know they even offered to give you away, to pin all the blame on this for you." Chapel said. "Which you know, is right because it is your fault. They were going to let the Minbari try you and execute you, probably slowly. The law book just went right out the window, that's how desperate we are Mike thanks to you."

"It… it wasn't just me…" Jankowski defended weakly.

"I'm sorry Mike, I missed that, speak up a little." Chapel said. "Because it sounded like you were going to weasel out of responsibility."

"I know I have to carry some of the blame." The officer said.

"Some of it?"

"I might have over reacted…"

His words were cut off in that moment by a sharp blow to the side of the head, Chapel leaning forward and crunching a fist into his temple with shuddering force.

"No Mike, stop listening to Brogan!" Chapel snarled. "What happened out there?"

"I…I…" Jankowski stuttered.

"Tell me Captain!" Chapel demanded. "You're in that uniform, for once why don't you act like it!"

"You know what happened!" Jankowski yelled in fear and anger.

"I want to hear it from you! I want you to tell the truth and accept it!" Chapel pushed. "Tell me!"

Jankowski bit down on his lower lip, then looked up. "I had orders to investigate the Minbari."

"Wrong answer!" Chapel shouted. "You had orders to check out Minbari space, see where it was. Did you have orders to initiate first contact?"

"No."

"What?"

"I said no!" Jankowski grunted.

"You know why? Because Lefcourt knew you weren't up for this! He knew you were a snivelling political apron rider and he wanted you to stay the hell away from them! He wanted contact to be initiated by someone whose last first contact didn't trigger a major damn war!"

"They drew us in!"

"You ordered your ships in closer, despite standing orders to avoid contact!" Chapel jabbed his finger. "You broke orders, you played your own little game because you thought you were smarter than the General Staff and because daddy Brogan would smooth things over! You screwed up bad you stupid bastard, and we're all dying because of it!"

Chapel sat back down, his anger subsiding. "You aren't fit to draw breath."

Jankowski looked up, but couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Don't even dare." Chapel said coldly. "You do not get to say that and make it all right."

"I'm sorry." Jankowski said louder. "I made a mistake, but what am I supposed to do now?"

"There isn't going to be a trial." The EIA Director said. "Morale is already rock bottom, dwelling on what started this won't help."

"So I'm going to disappear? Get in a car and vanish?"

"No, not you. Sad fact is you're too high profile."

"Then I've got a proposal." Jankowski said. "Give me my ship back."

"Are you insane?"

"You're going to need officers, hell even if I don't have command I have skills! Demote me, put me on a flying junk pile, doesn't matter! I'll do my part."

"No one will serve on the same ship as you."

"So I'll take a fighter, a…a shuttle!"

"No you won't."

"I deserve a chance at redemption!"

"You had it after the Dilgar war. You screwed up at the Omega Incident, then you screwed up again even worse. No way are we letting you try again. You're a walking apocalypse."

"If you just let me try… let me back on the Prometheus, just as a rating, anything!"

"I can't do that."

"Please!"

"I can't because the Prometheus was destroyed two days ago over Cyrus colony." Chapel informed. "Thirty one people managed to survive."

Jankowski fell back with a gasp, the air literally knocked from his lungs. "My ship…"

"And many more besides, all your fault."

"I'm ready to fight!" Jankowski affirmed. "I'm ready to die."

"Good, then you're in luck."

Chapel reached into his pocket and took out a lumpy black cloth bag that he upended on the coffee table. From within a hand gun fell out with a loud clank, its gleaming silver body laying perfectly still n the suddenly perfectly still room.

"Wha…what is this?" Jankowski asked in trepidation.

"It's a PPG." Chapel said. "Actually it's yours, signed registered and documented."

"I don't own one."

"You do now." Said the former Agent. "Pick it up."

Jankowski shook his head. "No."

"Pick it up or I'll give you to the Psi Corps."

The former Captain slowly reached down with a shaking hand and picked up the small gun, gripping it tightly in his white knuckles.

"Now this is the easy part." Chapel continued. "You put it to your temple and pull the trigger."

Jankowski's eyes shot up to the EIA Director in utter shock. His mouth moved but no words came out.

"Yeah, you heard." Chapel went on, ignoring his reaction. "Suicide Mike, quickest cleanest option for all of us."

"You're insane!" Jankowski screamed. "What the hell is going on!"

Chapel remained emotionless in the face of the outburst. "No trial Mike, no firing squad, no alien extradition, no chance of a glorious death in battle. You have one choice, you pull that trigger or you don't and we do it for you."

He looked down at the gun in his hand, and then at the man sat opposite, slowly almost subconsciously turning the muzzle to point at Chapel.

"You're problem here Mike is that you don't plan ahead, which we all kinda guessed already." Chapel said. "If you shoot me my friend here will finish you. You don't know him, he's called Ivan, say hello Ivan."

The scarred EIA Agent grinned, revealing teeth artificially filed to sharp points like an animal. Jankowski nearly wet himself.

"You see Ivan is an expert at what he does. He's a killer." Chapel said. "Hell, he's killed more people than World War Three, but lets say you get lucky and shoot him first. Then you shoot the two Commandoes on the door, and the eight outside, and fight your way out of EarthDome. Then what? Where do you go? Your face is known everywhere Mike. Think you can outrun the EIA? What about the whole planet? Ten billion people baying for your blood. What do you think they'll do to you Mike? Think it'll be quicker than that gun and your head?"

Jankowski looked back down at his gun, gradually turning it inward.

"I didn't want any of this."

"No." Chapel stood. "Nor did the Fifty Thousand families who lost kids or parents to the Minbari. Do something honourable for once."

Chapel nodded to Ivan who opened the door, leading the way out. The Director paused to put on the rooms video displays, each screen showing images of the hopeless battles and the annihilation of Earth fleets as a reminder of Jankowski's responsibility.

"And Mike." Chapel said. "Straighten your damn uniform and go like a man."

They stepped out into the hallway and closed the door, waiting there for a minute in total silence until finally there was the hissing report of a single PPG gunshot. Chapel and Ivan shared a look, then the Director cranked open the door, looked in, then shut it behind him with a click.

"We should have done this after the first time." Chapel said darkly. "Wait a hour, then call the police."

He nodded to the guards, both prospective EIA field agents and entirely loyal to Chapel.

"My people will fix the surveillance tapes, simple suicide, his conscience finally got the better of him."

The Director paused for a moment to look at the door, reflecting on the scene within with a grim sense of satisfaction. This was by no means the first suicide he'd fixed, though it was probably the easiest, Jankowski hadn't needed much pushing to fall off the edge. Somewhere deep down maybe he really did feel sorry. Chapel couldn't care less.

"I've got a meeting." He set off, turning his back finally on the room and its history. "And you Ivan have a team to pick out, see what sort of pain those boneheads can stand.

He took the stairs three at a time, bursting through the doors to the apartment invigorated with purpose. He had been close to retiring as Director, but couldn't leave now, not with this war raging around him. The EIA had its job to do, and so too did Victor Chapel. It was going to be a lot messier than today's little bit of work.

The Present Day

June 8th 2247

"You with me Vic?"

Chapel looked up, pushing the memory of that day out of his mind. Jankowski was long gone, but the legacy he had created still burned across Earth space inching ever closer to the homeworld itself.

"Just reminiscing." He stood from the wooden chair in the richly appointed waiting room deep inside EarthDOme, the surroundings designed to enhance calm but failing utterly in the current circumstances..

"Good memory?" the other man, his good friend Karl Durban asked.

Chapel smiled a little. "Actually, yeah, yeah it was."

"Well we're on, the President is ready to see us." The bright eyed Australian stated, still energetic and optimistic even after all that had happened.

"Finally." The new Director of the EIA said to his predecessor. "When we say important you'd think by now she'd understand that meant right away."

"She's got a lot to deal with." Durban allowed on her behalf. "Not everyday you preside over Armageddon."

"Which is why she should be happy to see us." Chapel picked up his briefcase and started walking, treading through the carpeted halls of EarthDome. Usually the corridors were busy, bustling with clerks and attaches but lately that level of activity had reduced a lot. Some people remained, but only enough to keep the building ticking over. Most of the workers had been drafted when the manpower shortages really began to bite.

Durban knew the way like the back of his hand, he'd been a regular guest at Presidential meetings for twenty years now, since before the Dilgar war in one form or another. Today he was attending as Vice President with responsibility for gathering and sifting through whatever information he considered relevant for the President to know. It wasn't strictly speaking part of his job as Vice President, but his old skills as an EIA agent had proven a benefit, releasing a whole team of government analysts to join other intelligence departments while Durban did their work himself.

It kept him constantly busy, but Durban liked that. The way things were going nobody should be idle, there was always something that needed to happen and Durban was a big believer in leading by example. There would be time to rest when the war was over, one way or another.

The two men paused at the doorway and knocked gently, their signal answered by a muffled voice inviting them in. The office itself had changed little, only the assorted ornaments and trinkets were different reflecting President Levy's particular tastes. The Great Seal still dominated the room behind her desk while tall windows looked out over the still well kept grounds of the Earth Dome facility stretching along the shores of Lake Geneva and beyond.

"Good Morning Madam President." Durban started proceedings. "How are those sleeping tablets?"

Elizabeth Levy was slouched in her chair, a woman who looked like she'd run two Marathons over broken glass only to get punched repeatedly in the stomach at the end. When she appeared on the news she was always alert and bright, she had to in order to keep up public perceptions that EarthGov was still directing the war. In truth her energy was supplied in a small bottle by the President's personal physician.

"No so good Karl." She answered tiredly. "Gets harder and harder to sleep nowadays."

"I understand Madam President." Durban stood before her desk, waiting for an invitation to sit down. When it seemed clear she wasn't catching on he coughed politely.

"Oh, sit down gentlemen." She said quickly, pulling herself forward and forcing some energy into her eyes. For all her difficulties Levy still had an incredibly strong personality, it was probably her greatest asset and a quality that even now engendered respect across the whole demographic of humanity. Durban had seen her at her best and worse, through incredibly deep bouts of depression and through some of the most stirring speeches the galaxy could recall. He had never found himself thinking she was not the right person for the job, and was always impressed at how swiftly she rose to the occasion.

"So what do you have for me?"

"Good news." Durban smiled. "Captain Hague managed to attack a Minbari supply base on Beta Durani."

Levy clearly brightened. "Excellent, how did he do?"

"Razed it to the ground." Durban reported happily, glad to have even one piece of good news to share. "He also winged a Sharlin cruiser, put it out of action for a few months at least."

Levy chuckled genuinely, the weariness lifting away like a morning mist. "Did we lose anyone?"

"Not a soul."

"That's just brilliant Karl, brilliant. We're giving this to all the networks?"

"After we delete some classified references, yes Ma'am." Durban confirmed.

"This is exactly what we need to pick up morale." She spoke gleefully. "Captain Hague again, he's getting quite a reputation."

"Yes Ma'am, there's a lot of talk in the senate about promoting him to full General."

Levy mulled over the idea. "Be a nice PR move, think he can handle it?"

"I think he has what it takes." Durban confirmed. "He just never stays still long enough for us to bring him down for a ceremony!"

Levy smiled. "A good officer, dedicated to his people. They all are."

"Yes Ma'am, they are."

"And all we can give them are orders to fight in a battle they have no chance of surviving." The President said, the returning depression creeping back into her mind.

"We are saving more people Madam President, with better evacuation procedures and the use of jump equipped civilian ships to open a vortex for escape pods our overall fatalities are far less than the beginning of the war."

"But the end result is still the same." She sighed. "Director, what about the spy ship from Durani, did you get it back?"

Chapel confirmed. "Yes Ma'am, my people are going over the recorders now in detail, but I have a summary right here."

"How are our people?" she asked with genuine concern, the thought of such a large colony under occupation truly painful to her.

"They seem as well as expected." Chapel confirmed, delivering some measure of relief. "There's no evidence of orbital strikes on population centres and no Minbari troops in the area. It looks like they're following their standard procedure of ignoring the civilians and simply blockading the planet from orbit and concentrating ground troops around their own bases."

"Their layout is designed to make guerrilla attacks very difficult." Durban took over. "They set up in remote areas, build their bases close to each other so they can be easily monitored and patrolled, set up a large central command point surrounded by supply yards and barracks, very formulaic."

"It works well for what it's designed for." Chapel agreed. "But it's the worst possible arrangement for surviving a nuclear strike. Which kind of happened."

"Can we expect retribution against the civilians for this?"

"Impossible to say." Durban was forced to admit. "Some Minbari factions would do it in an instant, but from what we know the current dominant Minbari group has strictly forbidden attacks on unarmed people."

"Regrettably not an act of mercy Madam President." Chapel added. "Simply their belief that killing unarmed people stains their honour as true warriors. Bad news is plenty of Warriors disagree with that and eventually once our defences are gone they will turn on our civilians."

"And that will end the human race." Levy spoke heavily. "Unless we find a way to stop them?"

"Unless we find a way." Durban agreed.

Levy poured herself a drink of spring water drawn from the nearby Alps, offering the cool liquid to her two experts. Deeply she drank the clear water, wishing it would wash away the dark foreboding in her soul but knowing somewhere that such a thing was impossible. She did not know what to do, every day seemed to bring them closer to defeat and she could not steer them clear, she couldn't fulfil her sacred job as President and guide humanity to safety and salvation. No matter what she did things just got worse.

"Twenty months, twenty months of fighting." She said. "Twenty months of death and destruction and loss. What have we got left? What can we try?" She shook her head sadly. "What chance do we have?"

"Our research division is working around the clock Madam President." Durban said. "Even now we're bringing new technology into play, new sensors, new safe guards, new ships."

"Alright then, what do we have that can take on a Minbari vessel?"

"There are some designs, a couple are reaching prototype stage…"

"Prototypes." Levy sighed. "We needed these ships a year ago."

Durban refrained from saying that if the budgets hadn't been slashed after the Dilgar war they probably already would have.

"We have almost completed the Cyclops prototype." Durban continued calmly. "A Nova refitted with our version of the Hyach Spinal laser. It still needs some ironing out however the weapon itself works and is capable of blasting clean through a Sharlin cruiser in one clean hit."

"So all you need to do is get a hit?" Levy said dismally. "What about the other one, what was it?"

"Medusa Ma'am." Durban said. "Designed to carry twice the firepower of a Nova and defeat enemies by sheer weight of fire and armour. It's about sixty percent complete."

"Will it work?"

"Yes Ma'am, the design is sound. How effective it will be… well no one can answer that until after it sees action."

Levy rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. "What about the new technology, the stuff we bought from the Narn?"

"We're reproducing it at full capacity, most of our remaining ships are already refitted with uprated weapons. We've managed to greatly increase our firepower with only a negligible increase in mass."

"Has it helped?"

"It has made a difference." Durban confirmed. "In terms of raw firepower our ships can actually match the Minbari weapons, our ships are equally destructive, or in the case of a Nova massively more powerful. Unfortunately we are still no closer to cracking Minbari Jammers, and if we can't hit them all the firepower in the world won't make a difference."

"We have new ships and fighters in advanced development." Chapel added in. "New Starfuries, a super Destroyer we're codenaming 'Warlock' and massively improved satellite defences based on Particle cannons. The bad news is we need time, even at full capacity it's going to take at least a year, for the super ships a lot longer."

"What about the battlecruisers, the Nova-X type?"

"They should be ready sooner, the technicians have been busy fitting them with the Centauri weapons, a full rebuild." Durban said. "Enough to reclassify them as a new ship, the Omega class."

"Can they take a Sharlin?" Levy asked.

"They have heavily upgraded weapons, excellent range, and the latest armour means they can withstand several direct hits."

"Karl, can they win?"

He exhaled. "Without a clean lock? We estimate a three to one loss ration."

She closed her eyes and held in her emotions.

"Which is better than the five to one loss ration for Novas, and eight to one for Hyperions." Chapel pointed out. "But we estimate eighteen months until production is advanced enough to field Omega's in large numbers, and that's assuming the yards at Io, Mars and Proxima are operating at full capacity."

Levy looked up at the two men, each in turn.

"We don't have eighteen months do we?"

Karl Durban returned her gaze confidently. "We don't know. Things are bad, but if you remember at the start of the war most people gave us three months tops, and we're still fighting nearly two years later."

"I see the maps gentlemen, we've lost every colony between Earth and the Minbari border, there's only one left. Proxima."

"That is true Madam President." Durban had to agree.

"If Proxima falls, Earth is next." Levy said.

"Earth Force is working with the EIA to try and delay that possibility Ma'am." Durban said. "We're lucky in the fact that Earth is in a difficult position with regards to Hyperspace, there is only one reliable jump route through and that is from Proxima. We've been keeping the hyperspace beacons turned off and that has given us some time, but even if the Minbari do find us they can only approach from one direction."

"We also know the Minbari are methodical." Chapel added. "They won't move on Earth until they are positive Proxima is secure. What we need to do is to keep Proxima contested, even if we have no real chance of taking it back we have to make the Minbari think we can."

"Basically Madam President we're shifting the battle for Earth to Proxima, keeping the fighting there instead of here." The Vice President explained. "Our one and only goal is to keep the Sol system free of Minbari until we can implement our new weapons."

"But for eighteen months?" Levy asked. "Most battles don't last eighteen minutes."

"We do have a plan for that Ma'am." Chapel mentioned. "Base don our early reports of Minbari ships shutting down our jump drives."

"We solved the problem didn't we?" Levy asked.

"We did Ma;am, through extensive shielding we managed to prevent the Minbari sensors disrupting our hyperspace systems." Chapel affirmed. "However we have been trying to duplicate the effect to prevent enemy ships from jumping in."

"We trialled a test model with the Marauders." Durban took over. "Since then the Minbari haven't been able to jump on top of our ships like the Black Star enjoyed trying. Ultimately though our goal is more far reaching."

"We're going to prevent them jumping out anywhere in the Sol system." Chapel said.

Levy looked at them with obvious scepticism.

"How on earth can you do that? The power requirements must be enormous?"

"That's right ma'am, our team believes the only way to do it is to alter the sun to emit a particular type of radiation that will…"

"Alter the sun?" Levy said with incredulity. "Gentlemen, is this something we should be playing with?"

Durban inclined his head slightly. "We're out of options Ma'am, we don't even know if it will work. But if it does it will keep the Minbari out of our space and buy us the time we need to counter them."

"Even if this does work, we are still outgunned." Levy pointed out.

"Yes Ma'am, any prospect of a total victory is frankly untenable." Durban agreed. "But we can try and force them to a settlement, drag the war out beyond their ability to sustain it. The Minbari have a much harder time replacing losses than we do, even a moderately damaged ship can be out of the war for months at a time and their entire way of war is extremely time consuming, especially with our constant raids. Every day drains their resources more, especially when we have people like Hague taking out supply bases."

"There is going to come a point where the Minbari won't be able to keep their fleet deployed." Chapel stated confidently. "They don't have the flexibility to adapt to our way of war, they're set up for a straight fight, fleet to fleet, a type of war they excel at."

"They put all their resources into a massive fleet blitz, a huge hammer blow designed to flatten us in a few months." Durban informed in turn. "They just can't afford to maintain that intensity of warfare for much longer, and they can't reduce their commitments because they know we can damage ships, put them out of the war and erode their strength slowly but surely until they have to withdraw. They fought themselves into a corner and they only have one way out, maintaining their rolling offensive."

"What we have to do is stall it, drag it out, it's a war of attrition." The EIA man continued. "Not ship for ship, but economy for economy. We can force them to postpone their attacks until they rebuild their supplies, and before they do that we can have our new ships in service and make the war even more costly for them."

Durban nodded in agreement. "A General once said wars aren't won by the side with the best equipment or the bravest men, they are won by the side that can stay on its feet for five seconds longer than the other guy. That's all we have to do Ma'am, just stay standing for the next eighteen months. And we do that by holding Proxima."

"I'd like to believe this will work." President Levy tapped her hands on the desk. "But we've tried before to force the Minbari into a battle like this, to make them fight for every inch of space between Earth and the border. They've always just rolled over us."

"The problem has always been the Minbari fleet." Durban said. "They cut through our ships then bombard our army formations, reducing us to low level resistance. Make no mistake, our soldiers fight like hell but without heavy equipment and with no supplies there isn't much they can do."

"There have been times when some of our units have managed to preserve some gear." Chapel took up the story. "A platoon of tanks, battery of guns, few gunships, and on those times they've done a lot of damage. In space the Minbari have all the advantages, on the ground its much closer."

"If we can separate the Minbari fleet from the ground forces, Earth Force Command is confident it can repel any assault on Proxima." The Vice President said simply. "We're already moving our best troops out there, hiding them beneath mountain ranges or in disused mines widened by engineers."

"How many?" Levy asked.

"A full army, the First." Chapel answered. "Three hundred thousand soldiers, about five thousand tanks and twenty thousand other vehicles. Lot of space to make."

"We're confident we'll be ready." Durban said. "And we're already setting up a deception plan to keep the Minbari fleet positioned deep in system far from Proxima III."

"And if they don't buy it?"

"Then we lose Proxima, which is going to happen anyway if we don't try." Durban said. "We still outnumber the Minbari three to one in terms of ships, they don't have more than a thousand vessels in the field at any given time. This is a gamble, and it might not work, but we have to try."

Levy had to agree. "I can't see any other alternatives. You have my authorisation to proceed."

"Thank you Madam President."

"The eyes of humanity will all be resting on Proxima again, the first colony we took beyond the stars, now the last one before our enemies reach Earth."

She considered the duality of the location, the importance it held.

"The First Star, and now the Last Star." She said. "And our last chance to survive this war."


	3. Chapter 3

3

10th June 2247

Minbari Occupied Space

The speakers crackled, distorted by distance and the poor conditions in hyperspace between the source and the receiver, making the transmission sound like it was made in a howling blizzard. Garbled and mangled as it was the voice still came through loud and clear, and the sheer terror held in its words was unmistakeable.

"We need evac immediately!" The voice demanded. "Now, now dammit! It's tearing us apart, we need to get the hell off this place!"

Jenny Sakai's face was like stone as she listened to the words, sympathising entirely with the team deployed to the moon in question.

"It's coming through the walls!" The voice continued yelling in utter panic, screams and gunfire audible in the back ground. "Get away from there! Get away!"

Static filled the channel, punctuated by sounds of fighting and death, something all too familiar lately. But here there was something different, something apart from the normal cries of a recon team under attack.

"Poor bastards." Sergeant Isuro Tachi announced with a shudder.

"Yeah." Jenny agreed quietly. "Sounded like hell down there."

"Still worth it?" The Japanese man asked. "I mean are we going to find anything down there?"

"Yeah, it's worth it." She said. "There might still be someone down there."

"Pretty slim chance Major." Tachi grimaced.

"If it was you down there Issy, wouldn't you want us to try?"

He looked into his fellow officer's eyes, seeing the utter resolve cemented into the dark brown orbs.

"Yeah, yeah we should try." He resigned.

"I've been there, trapped on an enemy world." Jenny said. "So damn straight we're going to try. Begin pre-flight checks."

She leaned forward in the pilots seat of the shuttle and began running through the start up sequence, Isuro doing the same thing beside her. It was a familiar enough process, almost a ritual by this point and something she had done scores of times before despite asserting once upon a time that she would never, ever, do anything this stupidly dangerous again.

Jenny certainly had the skills for this kind of work, a protégé of Earth Alliance Special Forces she had been picked out of the army for service with the EIA. Her mix of physical ability, mental sharpness and the ability to calmly put bullets through the heads of anyone who opposed the good of Earth made her the perfect Field Agent, a role she fulfilled magnificently for a number of years. Until that was she went and fell in love.

She had found a soul mate in the form of Paul Calendar, a scruffy opportunistic Freighter Captain who had disguised a genuine desire to help people and oppose the horrors of the Dilgar war machine. Together they'd defied death and helped gather vital information for Earth Force, playing an important role in the war. Then one day he had been killed, and Jenny stopped living a normal life, so crushed by grief she had no idea how to go on. She had stayed like that until she learned that she was in fact carrying Paul's child, a son whom she named Alfredo in honour of the man who saved her life in more ways than one.

Her son gave her a new and powerful reason to live, but the old Jenny was still gone, she died on Balos with Paul and with her died the best Field Agent in recent years. She retired, taking over Paul's old ship, the freighter Space Race, and continuing his family business with the intention of handing it one day to his son.

She had not entirely severed her ties with the EIA and still did occasional jobs for them, hiring out the Space Race like old times and moving agents quietly to and from missions. Sometimes she was required to use some of her more practical skills as her assignments turned dangerous, making sure she kept sharp and in shape, but those missions were few and far between. Her son, now fourteen was her constant priority and that never changed. Her other great concern was her niece Catherine, a concern which had only increased when the war broke out.

Catherine had joined Earth Force before the war much to the protestations of most of the family. Jenny invariably received the blame for glamorising the military lifestyle, something she usually answered with a stare intense enough to melt steel. Jenny knew better than anyone the sacrifice and loss such a choice could bring, but also knew the benefits of serving Earth and had been one of the few to fully support Catherine, helping her settle into the academy and giving her some advice during officer training. Catherine had graduated to pilot school, which was no surprise to Jenny, and there had met a dashing officer named Jeffrey Sinclair who seemed to embody almost the exact opposite personality traits to Catherine, yet oddly they clicked and became an item.

The war once again changed her life, and Jenny found her responsibility to keep her dearest safe suddenly became a lot harder. As a qualified pilot Catherine had naturally volunteered for Starfury duty, requesting a posting in Sinclair's squadron. Jenny knew full well the life expectancy of such a role and was not about to let her niece become a statistic, using her influence to have Catherine assigned to the explorer division seeking out and surveying new worlds to feed raw materials into the war effort. She was angry of course, but accepted her role and recognised there weren't many pilots as skilled at the job as she was.

The reassignment however had a price, and that price had been Jenny's return to active duty. She wasn't pleased about it, but recognised that it was a price worth paying, and that as the war grew worse and worse her skills were going to be vital to Earth. With the Space Race alongside she formally rejoined the EIA and became the main method of picking up or dropping off teams behind enemy lines. It was dangerous, but the Space Race and its crew were used to it, both Toby and Jors secretly pleased to be back doing their bit for Earth.

To improve their efficiency they had been given two extra pieces of equipment. One was a new generation atmospheric shuttle considerably better than the usual type. Sleek, stealthy and lightning fast it was perfect for ducking in and doing its job before the Minbari could react. The second addition was Sergeant Tachi, a serving member of the elite Special Assault Service with a specialisation in battlefield medical treatments, an often unfortunate requirement when pulling out a team that had been under attack.

They had gelled into a good team, mixing military training, EIA know how and some civilian wisdom to drag them out of danger numerous times. They had become one of the most welcome sights in the universe, the thing a team of operatives stranded behind enemy lines with the Minbari closing in hoped and prayed for. Sometimes they worked along dedicated SAR teams picking up life pods from raging battles, risking Minbari fire to save as many lives as possible. On several occasions the Space Race had been packed full of rescued service men and women, snatched from the jaws of death and delivered safely home. It was a job she had grown immensely proud of.

This was one more job, one more emergency extraction she had to perform. This particular type of mission was often the hardest with a good chance of being shot down. It was also unlucky that by the time they received the message and moved to launch the team would often have been wiped out. Success rates for missions like this were extremely low, and coupled with the danger were the worst parts of the job.

But she was still going to try.

"Angel One to control, we're just about ready here." Jenny announced from the shuttle.

"Confirmed, we're getting ready to initiate jump." An English accent answered. "Make sure your civie pilot stays close."

"That's Jors you're talking about Manny!" Jenny grinned widely. "He can stay latched to a laser beam."

"Alright, get ready." The Earth Force officer said. "We're going in."

"Confirmed. Jor's you hear that?"

"On it." The heavy set Swedish pilot of the Space Race answered from higher up in the ship's own flight deck. "You just get ready to launch, I hate this part."

"We'll make it quick, I don't like the sound of this one at all." Jenny related. "We'll be ready, just stay close to Manny."

"I'll be hanging on his moustache." Jors joked. "Ready for transition to real space."

Beside the Space Race, dwarfing the light freighter was the EAS Temeraire under the command of the well known Captain Manly Power, legendary for both his name and his daring deeds during the Dilgar war. Like most other characters in Earth Force he was part of the LRRG, Bill Hague's Marauders operating behind enemy lines on raids or other covert missions, such as supporting special forces teams as today.

The Temeraire had seen plenty of action against the Dilgar starting its life as a Hecate battlecruiser, built on a Hyperion hull but with better armour and stronger weapons. Following the war and advances in weapons design Earth Force found that its original policy of arming one type of ship with long range weapons, the Hecate, and another with short ranged ones in the form of the Hyperion was now redundant as pulse cannons could now do both. The Hecate class was officially retired, the hulls upgraded to modern Hyperion standards with long ranged lasers, medium ranged pulse cannons and short ranged plasma weapons allowing it to punch its weight in any combat mission.

They were significantly better than the first generation Hyperions sent against the Dilgar, the equal of anything the Narns or most of the League had, but against the Minbari they were frighteningly vulnerable and rarely committed to stand up fights anymore, used instead on raids and patrols while the Nova's tried their best to take the Minbari fleet on alone.

The Temeraire opened its vortex and cruised through, the Space Race right on its flank keeping perfect formation.

"Alright Angel, we're taking cover behind the fifth planet." Manny informed them. "Don't drag your feet, no enemy ships on the scopes but it doesn't mean it'll be like that forever."

"Roger that, see you soon." Jenny confirmed. "Angel out."

The Space Race broke away, engines roaring at full burn as the Heavy Cruiser turned about and headed for its hiding place, waiting to escort them out, if necessary with all guns blazing. The Temeraire would be easy prey for most Minbari ships, but Manny had more than a few twists and tricks to ensure he escaped with his skin, and his friends.

The system itself was largely unimportant, so uninteresting it didn't even have a name, just a grid number on the hyperspace beacon network. It had no habitable planets and one moon with a moderately breathable atmosphere. Initial surveys found it pointless, and it took a follow up by IPX to discover that at one point the system had been habitable. One world showed the remnants of an advanced civilisation, while the still habitable moon had several large ruins of a type unknown to history. Further exploration was scheduled, but never initiated due to the war.

The system was abandoned without a fight and the Minbari claimed it, deeming it just a worthless as they EA they left a small garrison on the moon and set their sights on bigger fish. Sensing an opportunity here to observe the Minbari in a non critical area and hopefully get an insight into their character while at rest, Earth Force authorised a small surveillance operation to study the Minbari garrison, and also to monitor any passing signals traffic relayed through the system between the fleet and their home commands.

It was a low priority mission, but important enough to maintain a presence. The EA had several teams deployed at once, with a cruiser usually deployed in hyperspace to support every three or four teams as required, either dropping supplies, picking up transmissions or in cases like this rescuing the ground troops if at all possible.

The Race did not slow down, the small ship having no intention of establishing orbit and waiting almost stationary for the shuttle to return. It would drop the small craft off close to the planet, blasting it out of the hanger, then loop around and pick it up again a few minutes later. It minimised risk for all concerned, and meant if one vessel was lost the other still had a good chance of escape.

"Coming up to our launch point." Jors informed. "Opening bay doors."

Through the windows of the shuttle Jenny saw the metal doors lift apart like a metal mouth, jagged teeth retracting from their path.

"Engines ready." Isuro informed. "Full power available, all flight systems green."

"We're ready down here." Jenny answered. "Catapult me."

Isuro braced himself. "I hate this bit."

"Launching in three, two, one…" Jors counted. "Adios!"

beneath the shuttle an electro magnetic catapult activated, throwing the ship out of the bay with a jolt like the best theme park ride ever, or for Isuro the worst. The catapult had belonged to a Carrier but with a few tweaks and a lot of lost paperwork had found itself on the venerable independent vessel. The shuttle was gone in a heartbeat, Jenny quickly recovering and gaining control, dropping the nose towards the moon and their plotted landing sight. Behind them the Race was already leaving, angling to sling shot around one of the other moons and swing back in a few dozen minutes to collect them.

"Still no enemy contacts." Isuro informed with clear relief.

"Understood, landing zone confirmed." Jenny put the shuttle on course. "Coming in five by five."

She quickly checked her instruments, confirming everything was clear.

"Any signals?" she asked.

Isuro checked the comms net. "Just static."

"But it's still broadcasting?"

"Yeah, though its just broadcasting nothing."

"It hasn't been switched off or destroyed, that counts for something." She said. "Lowball this is Angel One, respond, over."

There was no answer.

"Lowball, come in, this is extraction mission Angel One, respond, over."

Isuro shook his head. "Not a thing."

"Alright, we'll put down and check it out on foot. How's the weather?"

"Beautiful, full scale thunderstorm and gale force winds."

She sighed. "Makes you appreciate the inside of a ship sometimes. Alright, wrap up warm when we hit the deck. I really don't like where this is going."

The shuttle rocked hard through the sky, the sleek shape helping cut through the air but it was still a rough approach, the computer guidance working hard to keep the ship level. Jenny was half focused on the landing, and half on the last transmission from the planet. It had chilled her, and that was not something she was used to.

Jenny didn't scare easy. It wasn't just her training and her experiences, it was something in her character which was not easily upset or overturned. She could keep a straight face and an even set of nerves in virtually any circumstance, but right now she was beginning to get the creeps. She had run missions like this before, heard the panicked calls for extraction knowing help was probably too far away. Those voices had been scared a desperate, but the voice from this planet had something else to it. Pure unadulterated terror.

The team deployed on this planet were Razdeviks, the same branch of the special forces jenny herself had been commissioned into. They were dedicated recce troops trained to be secretive, cool and calm under all circumstances. They were patient and utterly in control at all times, chosen from those recruits with the most stable psyches. They were expected to operate alone with no contact for months on end, they didn't snap, didn't panic, didn't get cabin fever or lose their minds. Even if their whole team was annihilated a Raz never, ever panicked, it just wasn't in their consciousness. To drive someone like that to such a level of panic needed an even that cracked them to the core. For Jenny it had taken Paul's death to snap her out of her professional demeanour, for the people on this planet she had no idea what it had taken. Whatever it was she was not thrilled about setting foot in the same place it inhabited.

"It's coming through the walls." She repeated. "That's what the message said."

"I remember." Isoru agreed. "Sounded terrified."

"Yeah, but why it? Why not them? Or him?" Jenny wondered.

"Heat of the moment maybe?" The other man shrugged. "If the Minbari are storming you I guess its hard to speak straight."

"These guys were good, we put them down here remember?"

"I remember, they seemed pretty together."

She exhaled loudly. "I hate this war. Standby to drop gear, I'm lowering flaps and firing breaking thrusters."

The shuttle dropped through cloud cover into the pouring rain, the usual weather for this moon and doing little to make it a more appealing destination. The craft held steady against the crosswinds, looping over a set of ruins and touching down on a cracked square outside the remnants of a large stone building highly decorated in an alien style.

"This is where they were based." She said. "Some old temple."

Lightning burst overhead, filling the cockpit and silhouetting the ruined building.

"This is like a bloody horror vid!" Isuro grimaced. "Let's get it over with."

They unbuckled their seatbelts and quickly proceeded aft, lifting on their body armour and gathering their weapons. For Isuro his armament consisted of a standard PPG rifle and hand gun, for Jenny a similar rifle but entirely different handgun.

"I'm amazed you can even lift that thing." The Sergeant grinned at her choice of sidearm.

She hefted the weapon, an ancient Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum that had been Paul's pride and joy, and now travelled everywhere with her.

"Never know when we'll have a close encounter." She holstered it and pulled on a hat to keep off the rain. "Ready?"

"Why not?" He opened the hatch, the bulked up metal door falling open to the ground. "Rain, great."

The two operatives darted out into the dim grey light, the heavy clouds heavily filtering the already quite poor sunshine. The swept the area with their rifles, located no threats, and at once darted on their way, keeping low and moving from cover to cover. There was so much broken masonry it was hard not to find a place to hide, and while it helped the two EIA Agents it also meant they had to be especially wary of ambush.

Isuro raised his hand, then pointed to the ground. Jenny followed his gesture and spotted a pair of well hidden mines, standard Earth Force issue. The two agents had IFF beacons in their clothing and would register as friendly to the sensors on the mines, but it did confirm no Minbari had moved through this area.

With great caution they moved up the steps to the temple itself, rain water pouring down the stone stairway like a small waterfall, the two agents with rifles held tightly at the ready, sensors mounted on the barrel scanning with each step. They reached the door, peered in, and then with a swift simultaneous move leapt around and flattened themselves against the inner walls.

Nothing met them on the inside, no gunfire or surprised Minbari faces. Just quiet. Their scanners checked for heat or movement, the basic indicators of life, and found nothing.

"Clear." Jenny said.

"Clear." Agreed Isuro. "This is the place though, look over there."

Jenny looked over to a corner and saw a selection of electronic devices set up on stone ledges and tables looking very out of place in the ruins. They were standard issue communication sets and monitoring devices, the equipment the recce team had brought with them.

"Looks intact." She said, walking over to it. "And still active."

"Minbari hate human technology, they'd have smashed it up." Iruro said quietly.

"Yeah, so why didn't they?" She examined the equipment, finding the main comms unit still broadcasting.

Isuro continued looking around the large temple, rain dripping from innumerable cracks in the roof and tapping loudly on the floor. It was roughly circular with an altar of stone in the middle and a second doorway on the far side opposite the one they had entered through. There were dark hints of colour, old paintings that had once been magnificent, now as desiccated and weary as the building itself. Debris choked the floor, the remnants of a first and second story that had long since fallen in exposing the roof above.

"I'm seeing evidence of a fight, PPG burns on the walls." He said. "Pretty wild, not what I'd expect from SpecOps."

"Yeah, I got some evidence too." Jenny paused. "Here."

The Japanese man stepped carefully around the rubble to his colleague, seeing what she was looking at. A body.

"One of ours?"

"Yeah." She said. "Pretty messed up, doesn't look like he was shot."

Isuro winced at the expression on the face of the body, one of utter terror. "This is really creeping me out." He paused and frowned. "Where are the rest?"

"Nine man team." Jenny nodded. "Eight to go."

"We're going to get confirmation on all of them?"

Jenny reached down, taking the dog tags from the body and dropping them in her pocket.

"Every one."

They began to look around, but after a quick search found no further bodies, there was evidence that more than one soldier had tried to hold this place.

"They could be anywhere." Isuro sighed. "We can't check the whole planet."

Jenny tapped her personal radio. "Lowball team, respond." She waited briefly. "Lowball this is Angel, anyone there?"

"Nothing." The other man grunted.

"Yeah." Jenny looked over the still functioning equipment. "Absolutely nothing, look at the readings, this whole world is dead."

"I noticed."

"Not just our team, look, no Minbari signals either."

Isuro saw what she meant, his face dropping. "Ah hell."

"If the Minbari did this, why leave all this gear working?" She asked. "And if they won why are they just as quiet?"

"Might be a trap." Isuro warned.

"Might be, the base was pretty close by, our people could observe it through binoculars."

"We really want to go out there?"

"Hell no, but I guess we have to." Jenny checked her rifle. "Okay, grab the data records from the equipment and then join me out back, let's see what the Minbari are doing."

She blew out a breath of warm air, the exhalation misting before her eyes as she held the rifle in her hands just that little bit tighter and started stalking towards the far door. She could hear Isuro emptying the trays in each of the monitoring devices, retrieving the information that had been bought at such a high price. It had better be worth it.

Beyond the far door rain still poured, a hazy grey sheet that pelted down on the landscape. Behind the temple was a small courtyard that revealed a sheer drop beyond. The temple had apparently been constructed on this cliff face to look upon the rising sun on one side of the sky and the planet rise on the other. No doubt once upon a time it was a spectacular scene, but the ruined atmosphere of the moon obscured all past majesty and glory that this vista once held.

There were ragged rocks at the edge of the cliff, like rough jagged teeth they served both as a fence to keep people from the edge and as cover for those peering over. Some areas had masonry or broken stone showing where the natural rocks had been enhanced by artificial structures, but those walls were now long since broken and uncared for, the priests and monks who attended them just dust and forgotten memories.

The rain thumped on the brim of her hat, annoyingly interfering with her pricked up ears as she moved sharply from rock to rock, looking and listening for any indication of life. There was nothing, no sign of the team, the Minbari or for that matter any animal life at all. That caused a brief moment of pause, no birds or insects or mammals, no small creatures sheltering from the rain amid the ruins, no calls or whoops. Nothing at all. Clearly the civilisation that lived here was long gone, but the air was breathable and climate fresh, there should have been something that could live here. It was definitely unnerving.

Towards the corner of the small courtyard she saw an out of place object, a tripod surmounted by a set of high powered binoculars, clearly equipment brought by the team. Carefully she made her way over and came to a crouch beside them, staying low and hidden behind the jagged rocks dominating this slice of the moon. The binoculars themselves seemed perfectly functional, and a quick peek over the cliff showed several assorted buildings that were unmistakeably Minbari in the distance, a collection of blue hued structures and arrays that sat by a river side a few miles away at the edge of a valley, the river itself a muddy torrent. Again no movement was visible.

Jenny huffed in annoyance and began looking more closely around herself, ducking along the edge of the cliff and checking behind each of the increasingly large rocks. Some bore carvings that caught her eye, lurid scenes of quadruped creatures fighting beasts that looked eerily like demons from human culture. Some fears were perhaps universal.

She almost tripped on the body. It was laying face down at the edge of a rock, the green uniform soaked almost black. The male body had no weapons or clear wounds, but the feature that really caught her eye was a tangle of viscous yellow fibres draped around the figure. It was like nothing she had seen before and had to be alien in origin, but for what purpose she had no idea.

She touched the strands with a gloved finger, pushing them aside with a mild look of revulsion. She doubted this was the work of the Minbari, it made no sense, and was beginning to wonder just how alone they really were here.

No real survey work had been done, nobody knew exactly that this world was deserted. It was possible something survived here, some left over of the race that had lived here or some native predator. The world below had been rendered uninhabitable by a massive orbital barrage a thousand years earlier, the sort of atmosphere churning strike the Dilgar had tried but ultimately failed to copy with their fleet of Mass Drivers. Whatever and whoever had hit these dwellings had done so with a power no living race had demonstrated, not even the Minbari, and that just added to Jenny's increasing discomfort.

She rested a hand on the body' shoulder and turned it over, the skin as pallid and gaunt as the last victim. She noted the dog tags around the neck and unfastened them, trying to figure out where to look for the other seven team members.

As she stretched out her hand to take the tags, suddenly the eyes of the apparently dead body snapped open, wide and fear stricken.

Jenny almost let the mans head slide back onto the hard ground in her surprise. She cursed herself for not checking for a pulse first and simply assuming the man was dead. His eyes darted about, not fixing on any one thing, blinking in the rain as he took quick shallow breaths.

"Hey, hey." Jenny grabbed his attention. "Listen, can you hear me?"

The man fixed his wide eyes on her, giving no real response.

"Where's your unit?" She asked slowly. "We're here to get out. Where are they?"

His mouth moved, his breath still ragged as he tried to formulate words.

"You're safe soldier, it's over." She reassured. "It's done."

Gradually the wide eyed man shook his head before speaking very hoarsely.

"No… it isn't."

A rock scraped behind Jenny, and in a flash she twisted her body and swung out her PPG rifle, water flying from the chrome barrel as it line dup on the noise.

"Whoa! Hold fire!" Isuro raised his palms. "Just me!"

"Bloody hell Issy! Do not ever sneak up on me, especially not on sodding haunted death worlds!"

"Sorry." He exhaled, clearly shocked himself at havng a gun thrust his way. "Hey, you got a live one?"

She turned back nodding. "Yeah, he's right out of it." She sighed. "Post traumatic stress."

"One of your guys? A Raz?" Isuro asked. "I thought your guys could handle everything?"

"Guess we missed something in the training." She said warily. "Soldier, what happened?"

The man was still incommunitive.

"Has he got a name?" Isuro asked. "His tags?"

Jenny checked briefly. "Rooke, Amis, Corporal with the fiftieth." She nodded. "Standard tags for a Raz, there is no Fiftieth regiment."

"Walls…." The man muttered. "Through the walls…"

Jenny helped him up, propping him in a sitting position behind a rock. "What was that Corporal?"

"Through the walls…." He exhaled quietly, his eyes still rolling about with little control.

"Didn't the radio message say that?" Isuro remembered. "Something coming through the walls?"

"Yeah, but the walls are intact, no sign of a breach." The female agent frowned. "Corporal, Corporal Rooke?"

The man still lolled as if he was completely drunk.

"Amis?" she tried, and at that name he stopped and stared at her. "Amis, where are the others?"

He stuttered a breath. "Dead."

She gritted her teeth. "Minbari?"

He shook his head.

"What then?"

"Death."

"I know they're dead, but what killed them?"

"Death." He repeated in a whisper. "Death itself, come straight tout of hell." He breathed more harshly, screwing his eyes shut. "It killed them! Through the walls, through the walls! We couldn't hit it, no time, just from nowhere…"

"Some sort of creature?" Jenny asked. "A predator?"

"No animal, no,no,no." Amis shook his head, shivering his whole body. "It knew what it was done, it killed some, kept others, kept me."

"Why?"

He chuckled, the sound turning into a sob. "To eat later."

Isuro swallowed nervously. "Major, what the hell is going on?"

"I dunno, but it doesn't sound like the Minbari caught them. Amis, where did it keep the rest? Are they alive?"

"Not anymore." He sobbed. "It only needed one, just me…"

Jenny held her nerve, the utter terror in the man still palpable. "Where are the bodies?"

"I don't know."

"I need to find them, make sure before we leave."

"You can't do anything for them."

"I wan to try." She answered. "Or at least confirm it, take their tags home."

"It came through the walls…" He said in quiet sadness. "We didn't have time to fight… The walls."

"It's over." Jenny put a hand on his shoulder. "We're getting you out of here."

Amis looked up at her, his eyes drifting to look over her shoulder before widening in pure fear. He drew breath and just screamed, a shrill sound alien to soldiers as well trained as these men would be. He fought to stand and Jenny had to push him back down, fighting to keep the writhing man still.

"Issy, don't just stand there give him a shot!"

The Japanese Sergeant snapped out of it, enthralled by the horror filled tale he quickly remembered his place and took out a hypospray filled with sedative. He knelt by the panicking man and applied the sedative, at once stopping his struggle and returning his breath to normal. He slowly began fading into unconsciousness, his eyes drooping.

"This is not cool." Isuro managed. "We should go, now."

"We're still seven men down." Jenny answered. "We can't until…"

Amis grabbed her arm, his fingers like claws as his eyes widened briefly, his mouth open.

"…run…"

He faded finally into a dreamless sleep, totally under the effects of the sedative.

"Creepy." The Sergeant said in a whisper.

Jenny stood and turned around, finding herself face to face with a demon, a snarling white lined face with blazing red eyes highlighted in the electric fire of a lightning bolt. She almost stumbled back in shock before her brain told her it was just a picture, another image carved into the rocks and painted.

She let out a nervous breath, she was letting this place get to her. "I found what set him off."

Isuro looked over. "Damn scary. Lots of images like that around here, demons laying waste to cities, sucking souls from people, usually Armageddon sort of things."

"Pretty much what happened." She glanced at the ruins. "And no, I didn't say I believe in demons." She quickly added.

"No, but he does." Isuro looked at the sleeping survivor.

"Better get him out of here." She said. "Can you carry him to the ship?"

"No problem."

"I'll give this place another rlook over, see if I can see anything from up here." Jenny resolved. "Keep in touch."

"Will do."

"I mean it Issy." She stated firmly. "This place is already weirding us out, keep your radio on."

The Sergeant hefted up the remaining member of the surveillance team and began carrying him back to the ship while Jenny finished her sweep of the courtyard, taking particular notice of the images. Each one seemed to tell an increasingly violent tale until they finally stopped, the final image a mix of demons, Praying Mantis looking creatures and big flying spiders. She guessed it was some abstract sort of image, some symbolic representation of the enemy that probably doomed the planet this moon orbited. She shivered involuntarily, and not because of the cold.

She finished beside the binoculars, and having nowhere else to look settled beside them and peered through. They were set on the Minbari base, logical enough considering the team was here to observe them, but she unlocked the device from its tripod and began checking the rest of the valley looking for a small figure or two in green among the ruins or outcroppings. The rain made it hard to focus, but even so she managed to pinpoint at least one at the foot of the cliff. Base don the angle it looked like he'd jumped.

Once again she bit back her nerves, something she'd done more in the last half hour than she had for ten years previously. She kept up her search, coming up to the Minbari camp and pausing to investigate more thoroughly. Again this dwelling was empty, not a single worker or warrior was visible. A camp of that size would have had a few dozen people to operate it, with so many there at least one should have been visible. There was nothing.

She lowered the binoculars and looked out with her own two eyes, the weather closing in and growing colder as the Moon began to shift behind its parent planet. A slight rumble of thunder sounded, joined by a few shocks of lightning in the valley, one that struck the pinnacle of a small hill at the valley edge. Her eye saw the fork strike, and lingered as she saw something moving there, a small speck that betrayed something unusual, something that should not be there. It did not look human or Minbari, it was intangible, unreal, and she forced herself to raise the binoculars and take a closer look, to examine this supernatural manifestation.

She looked upon it for a full ten seconds, then dropped the binoculars, turned tail and ran.

Jenny vaulted over the rocks and debris like an Olympic hurdler, not even pausing to gauge distance or time, she just went on instinct at full pelt. She did not examine the inside of the temple, deliberately ignoring the carved demons watching her, faces flashing in reflected lightning while their open mouthed fangs dripped with rain like salivating animals.

Isuro had already loaded Amis and was on his way out to join her again when he spotted her leave the temple, launch down the stairs with a thud, and then head straight for the shuttle.

"Are we done?" He asked with building relief. "Are we going?"

"Too bloody right!" She delivered her mother's favourite anglo expression. "Get the ramp up!"

She made it into the ship in two strides and went straight to the flight deck without even changing, splashing water on the instruments. Fortunately a little water was no detriment to them. Isuro closed the ramp, letting it fit snug with the body as the shuttle roared to life.

"Did you see something?" he called up, moving to join her.

"I don't know." She answered. "I think so, but I'm not damn well staying to check!"

Her comrade sat beside her, the shuttle lifting up with a hurried wobble. "Some sort of creature?"

"I think so." She confirmed, rushing the takeoff sequence and punching the main engines with a violent blast of power. "Looked like it was doing to the Minbari what it did to our people."

Isuro muttered a quiet Buddhist chant of protection over himself and the shuttle.

"I didn't think you were religious?"

He tilted his head. "I am now."

Jenny nodded a little. "Yeah, I think I know the feeling."

Clouds passed the cockpit windows and were replaced by black space and stars, cold yet familiar and incredibly welcome.

"Race on scanners." Isuro spotted their ride home. "Ready to intercept."

"Course locked." Jenny said, then collapsed back in her chair and left it to the autopilot.

Isuro looked down solemnly, then turned to his fellow agent. "What happened on that place?"

"I don't know, and I don't think I want to know." Jenny answered honestly. "The Minbari base is gone, we don't have anymore business here. I'm going to have this place locked down, quarantined."

"You can do that?"

"I have friends in high places." She answered. "No one is setting foot here again ever. It's a dead world, a murdered world. Something wants us to let it rest in peace." The shuttle angled to meet the familiar shape of the small cargo ship.

"And I'm not going to argue with it."

Interstellar space.

There were no landmarks or places of interest out here, no colony worlds or jump gates, rumours of valuable resources or treasures to hunt. It was cold empty worthless space with no value or interest to anyone, and it was that disinterest from most that gave it value to some. It was a good place to go unnoticed, and the people gathered there had learned the hard way that unexpected guests were not always bringers of good tidings and wonder.

"Summoned, I come." The tall warrior stated in a noble voice with a depth of understanding and patience uncommon in his kind. "I stand in the circle and become grey. I stand between the candle and the star." He turned in the middle of the black room, illuminated in a bright white light, his strong features commanded by pale thoughtful eyes and a dark beard that was regarded widely as a sign of great wisdom among Minbari. "Between the candle and the star."

Around the darkness was banished by a series of spotlights, a circle of nine in total that revealed beneath them nine individuals each dressed in volumous grey robes. One of them carried a staff, the symbol of leadership though it was born merely of formality and as a necessity. The Council had no truly elected leader, not until they finished mourning the passing of their last one.

The man with the staff removed his hood, revealing his gnarled dark grey crest of bone. His face was serious, but behind it was some joy at the meeting.

"Branmer, Shai Alyt, the Council welcomes you."

At the centre of the gathering Branmer, senior warrior of Minbar, bowed formally to the speaker. "Ever a pleasure Jenimer."

Jenimer smiled slightly. With Dukhat passed beyond the veil to the land without shadows Jenimer had inherited his position based purely on seniority. He was the longest serving member of the council still drawing breath and by coincidence a member of the Religious Caste, though that mattered little in these circumstances. He was the de facto leader and responsible for calling the Council and leading meetings, but did not have the power Dukhat had wielded, and nor did he have the pure charisma and powers of persuasion that his illustrious predecessor enjoyed.

Dukhat's death was still keenly felt, his loss a great sadness to most and a furious anger to others. Those dual emotions of pain and anger had pushed the Council and the Minbari race at large to a fury unseen in recent history, an anger that had even eclipsed much of the Great Shadow War. For some that anger had cooled over time, for others it still burned bright.

"You are summoned to inform us of the latest developments in the war." A light but stern female voice said. "Branmer of the Family Mir."

"I protest." Another grey figure, a tall and proud male interjected. "While Branmer was born to the family Mir, he has since chosen to become a member of my clan."

The female bowed slightly. "My mistake Coplann."

The warrior was not so sure, grunted. "Your mistake indeed Delenn, you should watch these oversights."

She was pleased the hood prevented her true expression from being seen. It was rare enough she felt some joy anymore, but Branmer was one of her kin and an old friend and teacher, and it raised her spirits to see him again.

"I am indeed of the Star Riders now." Branmer confirmed turning to Delenn, delivering a little wink to show he knew she was testing the pride the warriors felt at having such a successful leader. Delenn found it amusing they celebrated Branmer as a great warrior yet conveniently ignored his origins as a priest and scholar of the Religious Caste, something she enjoyed reminding them at any opportunity. It was more than a joke, it was a cruel twist on her part, reminding the warriors that it took a priest to lead them properly.

Branmer had been a wise teacher and a learned student of Valen, specialising in the battle strategies and orders Valen used in the Shadow War. Records of that time were scarce and Branmer was widely regarded as the greatest military historian on Minbar. The Warrior caste found him amusing, laughing at a man who spent his life seeking glories in wars long past and not indulging in wars of the present. To them he was a typical anachronistic priest.

Branmer had been a great friend of Dukhat, and his death had impacted deeply on his life. With Minbar at war Branmer took a sacred oath to fight for his people and for the memory of his fallen friend, swearing to take up the warriors path and smite his enemies, or else to die in glorious battle. It wasn't until some time after he had made that oath that he realised exactly what it had heralded. The humans were not the great enemy he expected of Dukhat's slayers, they were backward, primitive and could barely harm the Minbari fleet. They were not the bringers of doom, they were little above target practice.

But his oath was made, and so he stood for duty with the Star Riders and was laughed at. He forwarded strategies based on Valen's teachings and was mocked. He warned the humans were more dangerous than the presiding Shai Alyt gave them credit for and he was ridiculed.

The jokes stopped when the Black Star failed to return home, taking with it the best of the Warrior caste including all three supreme elders and the Shai Alyt, effectively decapitating the Warrior caste.

It fell to Branmer as the wisest and most skilled warrior to take over and he quickly demonstrated his grasp of combined arms tactics and flexibility. Minbari losses were already light, but fell further as he implemented new tactics and adopted a more cautious strategy. There were no more rash assaults by lone ships deep into human space, he imposed order and a unified chain of command on the Warrior castes, and despite much grumbling his clever doctrines and full support by the Grey Council ensured Branmer's place as supreme Military Commander.

"Honoured Shai Alyt." Jenimer put them back on topic. "We have heard reports of an attack at Beta Durani."

"This is true." Branmer confirmed. "A raid which cost us three bases and sixteen thousand lives."

"A steep loss." Remarked Rathenn. He was a dedicated man and shared Dukhat's vision of the future strengthening Minbar for the Shadow war ahead. "Perhaps we should slow our offensive to make sure we have secured our rear echelons?"

"Slow the offensive?" Gloated Morann of the Windswords. He was young and still obnoxious, now even more so as his clan stacked up kill after kill. He, like his clan didn't care that the humans could barely defend themselves, blood was blood and the Windswords would take as much as they could and glory in it. "Every time the Religious Caste speaks on the war they want us to slow down, to pause, to wait."

"There is wisdom in not over extending ourselves." Jenimer mentioned calmly.

"And there is foolishness in standing still while our enemy prepares to counter attack!"

"The humans will not counter attack." Coplann said simply and confidently. "What good would it do?"

"How do you measure good?" Delenn added her voice quietly. "How do you quantify it? Measure what it can achieve, balance what may be gained or lost? We may not see what good an attack would do, but it does not mean the humans will not attack us all the same."

"And let themselves be slaughtered in even greater numbers?"

"Living or dying as an individual is one thing." Delenn answered. "Living or dying as a world, a nation, a family. That is something else. You judge the humans still as cowards and barbarians. Have you seen nothing this past year?"

"I have seen slaughter after slaughter." Morann preened. "I have seen futility, impotent ships and weapons falling at our feet like so much cord wood. I have seen the humans fail over and over and over."

Delenn shook her head. "They have never failed. We defeat them in battle, we kill them, but even now they fight on. Their spirit remains alive and burning, unbowed and unbroken by the worst we have thrown at them. For as long as that spirit endures, they have never failed."

"Delenn is right." Branmer stepped into the debate. "The humans are not broken, if anything they fight with greater skill and vigour now then they did at the start of the war. They should be exhausted, tired, without hope. Maybe they are, but where we would bow down and accept our defeat, resign to fate, the humans do not. They do not understand the concept of giving in to our destiny. They do not know when they are beaten, and so can never be beaten. Just killed."

"Then kill them we will, whether they stand and fight or fall and beg." Morann dismissed. "It is not a concern."

"It is a concern when their resistance costs us more lives than necessary." Branmer countered.

"They have never once stood up to a determined assault."

Branmer shook his head, drawing on his immense patience. "They stand their ground all the time. They still lose, but it does not make their bravery less. When faced with great odds in the past we too have fought bravely, sacrificing ourselves for the good of others. It is one of our core beliefs as Warriors, it defines us."

"They bombed our bases from orbit without giving battle? What honour and bravery is in that?"

"They fight us according to their own rules, not ours."

"They are without honour!" Morann snapped. "They should meet us on equal terms!"

"There will never be equal terms, our forces are far superior." Branmer shook his head. "Unless you are suggesting we go to war with our jammers turned off and our weapons half powered?"

Morann did not make a reply.

"I thought not." Branmer smiled. "And nor should we, we have the advantage and should use it. We should not want an equal war, we should be glad this is unbalanced, but we should also not cry when the humans use their own advantages against us. It isn't fair, but it is war."

"These raids are of little consequence." Coplann boomed. Of all the warriors he probably had the greatest influence in the council despite being only second in seniority. His clan, the Star Riders, held the greatest power among the Warriors and that power had ensured the Star Riders played a most prominent role in the war. The fact that Branmer was a Star Rider was no accident, and Coplann had supported him fully after his initial applications and victories.

"The humans cannot take on our main force." He continued. "These losses are mere annoyances, flesh wounds."

"Enough flesh wounds can drain the blood of the largest beast." Delenn stepped in. "These raids are gradually draining our blood, our supplies, and if enough are successful it will affect our ability to wage this war."

"I'm sure that would be a great disappoint to the Religious Caste." Morann sniped with heavy sarcasm.

Delenn accepted the remark without faltering.

"It is no secret I oppose seeing this war through to its bloody conclusion."

"Ironic as it was your word that started us on this path." Morann pointed out, as he always did whenever this discussion arose. "Unless you have forgotten? Kill them all didn't you say?"

"I said that, and I meant it." Delenn confirmed. "I have changed my mind."

"Changed your mind!" Morann laughed. "Well lets just stop the war now then shall we? We will tell Dukhat's soul it will go unavenged because Delenn has changed her mind!"

"This war has grown beyond Dukhat." Delenn said simply. "He would never have wanted a whole race extinguished in his name. It would have filled him with such fury and disgust he would have cast you out of the council!"

"Dukhat was a warrior, he understood…"

"He was my Mentor!" Delenn snapped back. "I knew his soul Morann, he was not a man to destroy those that could not harm him."

"No he wasn't, yet we know humans could harm him don't we? Unless Dukhat is hiding in the corner of this room perhaps?"

"Enough Morann." Coplann spoke harshly. "Show some respect."

He bowed his head to the superior warrior. "My apologies Satai Coplann."

Coplann acknowledged the remark, then turned back to the circle. "We have made a commitment to destroy humanity not just for Dukhat, but as a warning to all races that we are not to be trifled with."

"Like we did to the Garmak? Did that stop another war?" Delenn demanded. "Has any war ever prevented the next one? Has there ever been a war to end all wars?"

"Only the dead have seen the end of war." Branmer recited, only Delenn knowing he had learned that from a human text. "I have sworn to see this war to whatever end the Council decides."

"And the Council has decided Humans must be wiped out." Coplann said heavily, he himself no longer entirely supportive of the idea. "We cannot go back on our word, Minbari never lie. The war will continue."

"Our ships are ready for it Satai." Branmer informed simply.

"So tell me Shai Alyt, what is the status of our forces and how soon may we see the end of this war?"

The briefing continued for some time, Branmer diligently reciting every detail he had about the fleet and army, right down to the exact amount of supplies they had available and an up to the minute casualty list. Most was only of interest to the other Warriors, and some to the Worker Caste as he touched on the repair needs of the fleet and the rate at which certain spare parts wore out. In general though Delenn largely coasted, listening but alone in her own thoughts. Only the timetable really caught her attention, and that was summed up simply as undefinable. Earth was still at an unknown location, and until it was found the war would not end.

The meeting however did, and one by one the members of the Council withdrew to their own quarters to attend to their own matters. Delenn's course took her past Dukhat's old room, the portal sealed and guarded on her personal orders. Within that room stood Dukhat's greatest legacy, not a trinket or item but ambassadors of the Vorlon Empire. The presence of the Vorlons more than anything else told Delenn that the time of great darkness was near and action had to be taken. Both they and Dukhat had told her to join forces with humanity, that they were vital in the coming Shadow war. Against such accumulated knowledge she could not argue, but actually ending the war was proving nigh impossible.

If she could reveal the Vorlons to the Council, show them hard evidence that the Shadows were almost upon them then she had no doubt the war would end, but she could not. The Vorlons had to be kept secret, even from the Council as the more who knew of them the greater danger they would be in. With Lenonn gone only she knew of their existence and it had to stay that way. She alone had to end this war, and sometimes she wondered if the Vorlons were testing her abilities by giving her such an impossible task.

It was certainly testing her faith.

She entered her simple quarters with a heavy heart, the oil candle still burning atop its crystal pyramid where she left it. Only candles lit her room these days, dim flickering lights that barely held back the encroaching darkness. It was an echo of her soul, of the weight of responsibility she felt pressing down on her. Ten billion lives were in her hands, perhaps many, many more and she had no idea what to do.

Delenn had never been more alone, with her friends and mentor gone and with no one else truly sharing her desire to stop the war. She knew Jenimer and Rathenn would support her, but could not act alone. Delenn could trust them to follow her lead when it came to making the Warriors stand down, and could rely on the Workers to make no complaint one way or the other, but convincing the Warriors was proving to be all but impossible. Even hinting at an armistice ended in snarled words and veiled accusations of cowardice. With the desire for blood still raging among many ordinary Minbari it would require an extraordinary act to end the war, and she just did not have it.

"Delenn?" a voice questioned from her doorway. "Do you have time for a friend?"

She turned and smiled. "There is always time for a friend Branmer. Please come in."

"That is a sad smile Delenn." He closed the door behind him.

"They all are these days, my joy has no warmth anymore." She admitted, her figure slight and frail beside the larger male. "How can there be joy in this war?"

"Many still feel it." Branmer answered. "But you are right, there is no joy here. Even among my Warriors I sense weariness, they are no longer earning glory, they see this for what it is. Genocide."

"So why do they still fight?"

"Because we tell them to, and they will never stop unless we give the order."

She sighed in defeat. "And the Council will not give the order because they cannot be seen to have lied about destroying humanity. Minbari never lie."

"Except to save another." Branmer added. "Words are there to be interpreted."

"I have tried old friend, I have tried to show them that we are destroying ourselves just as efficiently as we are destroying the humans. Rifts are opening between the castes and clans, we are breaking apart and all while we should be uniting for the coming darkness."

"If by winning this war we doom our race, then it must be stopped. To save Minbari live sin the future!"

"I know." Delenn nodded. "But the Council will not agree. They say there is no danger, that when the war is over all will be resolved and return to normal. They do not understand."

"You must keep trying Delenn." Branmer pleaded. "I have tried to give you time, I do all I can but there are real limits."

She smiled. "I know it was your orders to leave civilian structures untouched, that killing the unarmed stains our honour."

"A temporary measure." Branmer warned. "When the war ends they will be slaughtered, I cannot stop that save by decree of the Council."

"It gives us something at least." She said. "And if the warriors are growing weary we have a chance."

"Some are, but many are not." The Shai Alyt answered. "Mainly Windswords, they more than any others push to continue the war. They revel in death, enjoy the slaughter. For them this war provides purpose, and when it ends they return to being unfulfilled. They will not easily let this go, especially not Sineval."

"Deathwalker's friend." Delenn spat. "He has spent too long with her, he is more Dilgar than Minbari."

"The Warrior Caste is a battering ram Delenn, once it is moving it is hard to stop. That is our great strength, and our most serious weakness." Branmer considered. "If we can stop that ram for long enough we can end this war."

"What about the Windswords?"

"They will obey." Branmer said firmly. "I will see to it. The other Warriors, many of them will be glad to go home, all will obey. Unfortunately stopping it will not be easy."

"What could do it?"

"Direct word from the Council." Branmer said. "That is the only sure way. No one would dare disobey an order from the Grey Council, even Sineval."

"But so long as the war goes on, as long as it keeps moving forward, there will never be an order."

"The only other way is a human victory, a staggering one that halts our advance." Branmer said solemnly. "Yet I fear that is an even more remote possibility."

Delenn paused in thought. "You could engineer it? Allow a human victory?"

Branmer smiled slightly at her words. "I cannot Delenn, I cannot lead my warriors into a battle that I have already lost, I cannot throw away even one live. They have put their faith in me to lead them true, I cannot deny them."

She bowed her head. "I understand, but I had to ask."

"You would not be Delenn of the Family Mir if you had not, or be my friend."

She turned her face to the candle, the flickering light reflected in her eyes.

"Do you ever wish Dukhat was still here?"

"Every day." Branmer agreed. "Not just to end this war, but because he was like a brother to me."

"Do you wonder what he would say?"

"After he finished mourning for all the blood spilt in his name?" Branmer remarked. "He would be glad to see the woman you have become."

Delenn looked down. "I do not think he would… my actions at his death…"

"Were those of a woman who had lost her most beloved friend and teacher. He would understand. He would also understand that the ears that so readily heard your words that day are now closed to you today. I know you bear a great responsibility, but do not believe it is your alone. There is far more at work here Delenn. Do not blame yourself."

She turned back to her friend, Branmer looking oddly like Dukhat in both manner and appearance. Like her he served a greater purpose, he had followed his heart and it had led him down a dangerous and ruinous road.

"We have lost something here in this war. Something fundamental to our souls."

"But it can be regained." Branmer comforted. "We have hope."

"But do the humans?"

He smiled. "As long as you draw breath, yes they do." He grinned wider. "And I realise the irony that you of all people are their best chance of survival."

She sighed. "What have I done Branmer? What have I set in motion?"

"The future. And you are not done yet." He said. "You must end this for both our races. Our scouts are closing in on another human world, from information from…from that thing the Windswords keep, we know we are close, at most one colony from Earth."

"Time is running out."

"Many of my subordinates believe the humans have a plan, a great weapon or might fleet they are martialling. Our fleet is cautious, they thing the humans are buying time to prepare some great and evil surprise for us. You and I know better Delenn, but feeding these rumours helps keep my Warriors careful in battle and saves lives, and it gives you time."

"But not much. Not much at all."

"You must try Delenn, the humans are a noble race, they are not evil, they are a great power for good." Branmer said. "Did they not break the Dilgar? Did they not save hundreds of billions of lives from torturous death? Did they not pay to rebuild the League and save billions more from starvation?"

Delenn nodded.

"They are heroes Delenn, soldiers of light." Branmer said. "We know that from the past, and we see it every time we battle them and watch as they throw themselves at our guns. If we wipe them out, if we extinguish such goodness and light from the universe, what will that make us?"

He exhaled heavily, staring at the dim flame of Delenn's candle.

"I have read the words of Valen, his stories of the Shadow war. He speaks of his people fighting against all odds, sacrificing their lives to buy mere seconds before the darkness comes. The Shadows had power beyond us and cut through our fleets without mercy or pause. When I read those words Delenn, I see humans defending their homes, not the Ancient Minbari. The story is so similar, the courage and honour so close as to be the same. And then when I read of the Darkness, Valen help me I see us Delenn, I see Minbari ships slicing through brave defenders without mercy, intent on nothing but slaughter and genocide."

He took a step back, moving for the door as Delenn stood in the dim orange light.

"End this war Delenn, every day it goes on we become more and more the servants of darkness." Branmer spoke coldly. "If we destroy humanity, remove that noble light form the universe, we will never be redeemed and after death Valen will cast us to the Shadows, for that is where we will belong."


	4. Chapter 4

4

June 14th 2247

Io transfer point

Sol Outer Defence Sector

Deputy Director Miguel Costa reviewed the report a final time, rubbing his chin and raising his eyebrows in a frequent sign of interest. Sometimes he would tap his fingers on the textured black rubber of the desk he sat behind, and once or twice a concerned hum emanated from his throat.

"Well Agent, it seems you have discovered an entirely new life form."

Jenny Sakai was inclined to agree, seated opposite the EIA's senior representative for off Earth operations. Based on Io Costa had responsibility for maintaining security on the inner colonies including Mars. Normally this meant dealing with Mars rebels, smugglers and organised crime but in recent months his duties were mainly focused on scouring the system for Minbari probes and scout ships and making sure nobody leaked the true location of Sol.

"I took an hour or two on the way home to review the Xenological records." She shared her investigation. "We don't have anything even remotely like this on record."

"But you say there were images of it carved into rocks?"

"Yes sir, the civilization out there knew about them, and they died out a thousand years ago." She confirmed. "On a hunch I checked our cultural records for races who were around back then and got some stuff from both Narn and Markab Mythology that sounds a lot like these guys. Plus of course they match our image of demons pretty well."

"You're saying this thing was a demon Major?"

Jenny resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Simply that it shares some characteristics, too many to be pure coincidence. I'd say it warranted further investigation, something like this could be a major threat."

"An invisible ten foot tall monster that can walk through walls." Costa reviewed his notes.

"And that took apart one of our best units in seconds." Jenny added. "Before wiping out three dozen Minbari warriors."

"Only one of them, one creature like this known to exist."

"There will be others sir, I strongly recommend investigating further. The ruins could give us clues about what they are. Base don what I saw I don't think they were native to that world, I think they were introduced as weapons by whoever destroyed the natives."

"Normally I'd agree Major, but with the war going on we can't spare the resources."

Jenny frowned in annoyance. "My instincts tell me this could really come back and bite us."

"I appreciate that, but our researchers are too busy elsewhere, even IPX is overwhelmed looking for new worlds to fall back to, if we have to." Costa sighed. "I'll recommend immediate quarantine, way things are I doubt anyone would go there anyway."

She nodded, if she was honest with herself it was the best she could hope for. "Understood sir."

"When the war is over, if we're still here, we'll look into it further. Until then just stay the hell away."

He closed the folder, opened a desk drawer and shut it in with a resounding thump. The memory of the creature still gave Jenny the shivers, it was like something from a nightmare.

"So Major, what about the survivor? Amis Rooke was it?" Costa asked.

"Unfortunately he's a write off." She answered. "Not to overstate the matter, but he's completely lost his mind. Even with our need for troops there's no way he's going to see service again."

"That bad huh?"

"Every bit sir." She nodded grimly. "He had an excellent record, they all did."

Costa shook his head. "They aren't the first people to die in this war without the Minbari firing a shot. Accidents, mistakes, threats we never saw coming. We've had to abandon most of our safety rules just to try and gain even a tiny advantage over the Minbari. We're giving barely trained soldiers high explosives, we're expecting them to ride in gunships or drive tanks, people die every day because they just don't know any better. Amis' squad is just one more accident of war, officially we'll list them as killed in action taking out the Minbari base. Heroes each one."

"Probably for the best sir." Jenny found herself in agreement, some truths were better kept quiet.

"What about the monitoring equipment?" Costa move don. "Did we deceiver anything useful?"

"Matter of fact we did, we picked up accurate reports on the strength of the Minbari fleet and coordinates of their scout missions."

Costa chuckled. "Heaven help us if the Minbari ever figure out proper communication security."

"They consider their messages secure, no one has ever broken their signal encryption so they speak openly across their channels, no codenames or decoy broadcasts."

"They never met someone who put so much effort into recovering enemy intelligence signals." Costa smiled. "Their too arrogant to believe a lesser race like us could ever surpass them in something, bet it never even crossed their mind."

"Maybe sir, but we're confident the data is accurate." Jenny related. "The bad news is their scouts are getting closer to Proxima, by process of elimination they'll be there soon."

"How soon?"

"Few weeks, a month at best." She said grimly.

"Doesn't give us long to act."

"No sir."

Costa nodded and leaned back in his chair. "Thank you Major Sakai, I'll forward these onto the Director in person."

"Yes sir" Jenny stood and straightened her military uniform. "Give my best to Vic."

"Will do Major, we'll be in touch about your next job. Until then I think you've earned a break. That will be all."

Jenny left the office with a sigh, stepping out into the grey corridors of the Orion class starbase. She still held great concern about the beast she had seen and knew enough about how the intel agencies worked that someone somewhere would see it as an opportunity, not the threat it truly was. Hopefully the EIA could handle it first, Vic Chapel being a man who knew danger when he saw it and how best to deal with it, usually in a permanent manner. But with the war messing things up and with the Minbari almost on their doorstep even Vic would be too busy to deal with this, and Jenny couldn't handle it alone. Not unless she could 'borrow' a tactical nuke and a battlecruiser from someone.

Reluctantly she put the thoughts aside, like the rest of humanity she had more pressing matters to be concerned with. She set off through the station, one of two large bases dedicated to guarding the gateway to Earth. The area around Io was massively fortified in peace time, but since the war started had been massively enhanced with mines, satellite weapons and patrols. While it was hugely unlikely the Minbari would just fly through the gate, they would need to secure it to bring in supplies efficiently which turned Io into a prime target.

In the meantime Io acted as the main transit hub of the Sol system, the primary transfer point of fuel, cargo and warships returning or departing to the forward lines. The two stations were almost always surrounded by floating supply dumps of interlocking containers and canisters gradually growing or shrinking as Belt Alliance freighters conducted their runs to and fro, heading out to Proxima or back to Mars and Earth. Travel to the colonies was difficult as Earth Force had ordered the deactivation of the beacon network to hide Earth and prevent the Minbari simply bypassing the other worlds and launching a decapitation strike at Earth itself.

To travel through EA space required exceptional timing, for a few hours each day the Navy activated one particular section of the beacon network in coordination with a naval fleet or a Belter convoy, and kept the grid active only for as long as it took for those ships to complete the journey. It worked reasonably well, but if one ship was late or fell behind Earth Force wouldn't wait for it. The risk of leaving the beacons on for too long was just too great, and a disturbing number of ships had been marooned in hyperspace when the beacons were shut down. None of them had ever been seen again, and while most were freighters a handful of warships being pursued by the Minbari had also been sacrificed to maintain security.

The only bright point was that they had undoubtedly consigned several Minbari ships to the Abyss in the process, and after the first few losses the Minbari no longer chased EA ships into hyperspace after a raid or battle for fear of losing their beacon locks and wasting a prime warship for nothing. The strategy had also slowed the Minbari advance to a crawl and forced them to use scouts and exploration ships to check out every single star in EA space to find those tiny few that had colonies settled among them.

It had bought humanity a lot of time, but that time was now draining away fast. The Io defence grid looked impressive, one of the most powerful in existence and even then with all its weaponry it was just a shadow of the massive firepower orbiting Earth. It was a comfort to see, a morale boost to witness the rows of satellites, missile batteries, stations and mines, but Jenny knew that in the end it wouldn't count for much. She'd seen the Minbari at work, watched their fleet mass in a wall of heavy warships and drive through everything in their path like a juggernaut.

Once the Minbari fleet began moving there was nothing that could stop it. Jenny had seen three major fleet battles, the largest being the defence of Cooke colony which was situated on a vital convergence of jump routes. At that battle Earth Force had gone all out, they established a broadside line of Nova dreadnoughts directly in front of the Minbari advance while deploying Rail gun ships and Hyperions to flank the main enemy advance. On top of that they had managed to deploy virtually every surviving ship of the Sagittarius class of dedicated missile ships fully loaded with nuclear missiles. It was to be the grand showdown, a repeat of the tactics that had so devastated the Dilgar fifteen years before.

The Minbari had simply cut through the defences like paper. Their pinpoint beam weapons cut missiles down in swathes, thousands of green beams sweeping back and forth across the sky like a laser light show wiping out the nukes before they got close. Nova salvoes had lit up the sky, the Dreadnoughts had seen their firepower increase over their Dilgar era sisters but it hadn't helped as their shots invariably went wide. Sometimes they hit, and each hit was zeroed in by several other ships. On those rare occasions even the might Sharlins fell, smashed to pieces by the sheer brute force of the human warships. But those events were rare, and all too often it was the Minbari doing the killing.

Dreadnought armour was strong enough to absorb a few hits before collapsing, but the Minbari rarely missed and could destroy anything in the human arsenal long before they could make adequate reply. The flanking forces were intercepted by Minbari light ships, Tinashi frigates and Tigara cruisers easily bringing down the Hyperions and Artemis class ships.

A few EA ships got in close enough to fire accurately, most of their gunfire refracted or absorbed by the tremendously strong Minbari armour leaving the EA ships just one final option, a suicidal kamikaze run that eliminated both vessels.

Cooke Colony had been the most costly battle for the Minbari fleet, the one place where Earth Force had been able to assemble a real multi layered defence. Unfortunately their losses were nothing compared to the cost Earth Force paid, with two full fleets destroyed, hundreds of first rate ships and crews gone, and the exhaustion of the main nuclear stock piles it had made Earth incapable of fighting another set piece battle for months. To make matters worse the colony had still fallen on schedule, and several vital resource stations had been destroyed before they could be evacuated.

That battle had convinced most in Earth Force that the war was lost, or at least that the tactics and strategies that worked so well previously were now all but useless. In theory they were still sound, against an equal opponent they would have been devastating and especially against someone who attacked in the way the Minbari did. The Minbari fleet was inflexible, their tactics were childish, their strategies blatantly obvious even to first year cadets and their formations would have made any missile ship commander or Dreadnought Captain weep for joy, but none of it mattered and all because of the technological gap. Technology allowed the Minbari to be insular and uncreative, it let them make mistake after mistake and not only survive but also win. In a fair fight with equal technology Earth Force would have been orbiting Minbar within six months, but there was nothing fair about this war.

Earth was losing, even the government had been forced to admit that. There were continual messages of hope, of victorious raids and new technologies, but none of it had stopped the Minbari advance, none of it had opened negotiations, none of it had given Earth a realistic chance of still being here in a years time. There was a sense that everyone was dead already, so you might as well make that death count and take a bone headed bastard down with you, preferably several. Humanity might not win, but it could make any Minbari victory taste like ashes, a final parting act of defiance.

The resignation to fate was everywhere, tempered by some small hope that the next battle might be different, that finally something might go right. There was certainly a buzz about Proxima, word that Command was planning something big to finally hold the Minbari offensive and do to them what they had been doing to Earth for so long. Hope was important, it kept people fighting, but so did the feeling of being pushed back and given no choice but to fight or die. Earth Force was more and more like a cornered animal, and of course fought just as viciously as one.

Io Prime was full of soldiers, almost all of them in army green with just a handful of blue or grey naval uniforms showing crews from docked ships or off duty station personnel. Many of these soldiers seemed quiet cheerful, a sure sign that they were fresh recruits with only the tiniest inkling of what was ahead of them. Some units were more quiet, grim faced and hard eyed as the stood in line waiting to embark on their transports. Jenny knew veterans when she saw them, and the fact there were so few amid the crowds was a source of concern.

Every ship was going to Proxima, both troop ships and Belt Alliance freighters. Earth Force was massively reinforcing the planet, sending in its mobile reserves to strengthen the three separate armies already on planet. Of those troops the First Army was the best, built up of veteran units that had retained a core of troops from the Dilgar war. Among them was the 99th, a unit Jenny knew well from those tough weeks on Balos. While the ground forces were being built up, the space forces were not. Proxima had a strong defence fleet, but the bulk of the Navy was still deployed at Sol and despite requests from Proxima command would not be sent to face any invasion. Earth Force knew, correctly, that Proxima space could not be held and was planning a different type of campaign.

The plan was still shrouded in secrecy, and even with her security clearance Jenny had no idea what was happening. If Earth was seeking a major ground battle it would first have to find a way to clear orbit of enemy ships. As a rule Earth Forces ground components had proved excellent counters to the Minbari, matching Minbari technology and fanaticism with human ingenuity and courage. On the ground battles were much closer and Earth had secured several victories until the Minbari fleet levelled the playing field, quite literally. While success on the ground was a great morale boost those victories had caused only a minor impact on the course of the war and were fleeting in their success.

Most of the crowds in the station wore uniform, Jenny included, though some still wore civilian clothes. Those people tended to be either too old or two young for service and were instead employed in supporting the fighting arms of the military. However among them there were still a selection of fit young people of military age who were not in uniform and invariably those people were members of the Belt Alliance.

Like all human groups the Belt Alliance was subject to military conscription, indeed its members were among the first to be drafted containing as they did do many experienced pilots and starship crews. The BA had lost the vast majority of its members to the Navy with only a skeleton staff remaining, those people required to keep the ships running and the life blood of trade and commerce flowing. The BA had hired a lot of aliens to make up the shortfall, something Earth Force disapproved of but recognised as necessary. Without the BA and its vast fleet of freighters and tankers the economy would grind to a halt and the war would be over, not to mention the fact that most military supplies went through BA hands at one stage or another.

The remaining Belters had to put up with a lot of abuse from serving military personnel who tended to look down on them and mock them for not serving on the front lines. If given the choice most Belters would gladly swap places with their navy counterparts, for while a heavy cruiser might not last long against a Minbari ship they offered a far better chance than the BA gunboats and auxiliaries. As armed vessels the Minbari deemed the Belt Alliance escorts as combat vessels and therefore not subject to exemption under the rules of war, a decision that spelled certain death for any Belter caught up in a fire fight. Any BA Freighters caught were usually impounded and their crews deposited on a nearby human colony for orbital disposal later if they were lucky, though the Windswords had a reputation for simply blowing any human ship out of the sky, even those with alien crews.

The Space Race had suffered its fair share of dirty looks, snide comments and outright accusations of cowardice, accusations Jors had responded to personally and usually with violence. Between them the three core members of the Space Race crew had seen more action and danger than any serving ship in Earth Force, but by their nature could never reveal that. As a qualified officer Jenny had the right to wear a uniform and sometimes did, but Toby and Jors did not. As employees of the EIA Director Chapel had offered them military rank equivalent to Lieutenants but both men had refused. They were proud of their appearance and would not change it even knowing the constant harassment they courted. Jenny herself was proud of that decision, and usually wore her own practical civilian clothes on assignment slipping into uniform only for official duties or for combat.

After a brief walk she found her crew gathered around a table in one of the numerous bars and clubs in the station, seated between bustling throngs of green clad infantry grabbing a last off duty drink before shipping out. Beside Toby and Jors in their customary scruffy attire was Isuro, all of them clutching a hand of cards each with a small pile of coins in the middle of their table. Despite his recent assignment to Jenny's side Isuro had slotted in perfectly to the group, displaying a sense of humour very similar to that of Jors. He was still a military man, but his Special Forces training had made him far more relaxed than the fresh troops around him and installed a buccaneering, almost piratical attitude that went down real well with the crew.

There was a fourth figure at the table, also clutching a hand of cards and also looking scruffy. He was somewhat smaller and leaner than the other men with a mess of dark hair and a clean face, two dark eyes betraying no hint of the rather pathetic selection of cards fate had dealt him. Unlike the rest of the crew he had not received much abuse from Earth Force personnel being too young to be drafted, at least he was at this stage of the war.

"I'm going to raise you ten." Alfredo Francis Calendar said simply, pushing a coin to the middle of the table.

"I'll see that." Isuro said calmly. "In."

Jors said nothing, merely matching the bet.

"I think you're bluffing." Toby smiled, the Space Race Co0pilot and communication officer happily putting up some money. "So I'll raise a further…" he counted out the money. "Fifty."

"Not me." Isuro put down his cards in defeat.

Jors shook his head. "Me neither, not this time."

Fred cracked a predatory smile. "I'll see your fifty, and raise another fifty."

"Now I know you're bluffing."

"That a fact?" the much younger player asked. "Then how about I raise you another hundred instead?"

Isuro stifled a laugh as he saw Toby go from confident to wavering, the small pile of cash by his side dwindling. Jenny stood a little way away, unnoticed by the group watching with interest how events unfolded.

"Come on Toby, step it up." Fred said with amusement. "You've already lost, now you just gotta decide how badly."

Fred had an uncommon amount of confidence for a fourteen year old, considering his parentage that was perhaps no great surprise. He kept an even gaze, staring straight at Toby with the predatory smile daring the older man to put up the money and prove him wrong.

"Fold!" Toby slapped the cards down. "Damn you and your Calendar genes, I just know you're way too lucky to lose."

With a shrug Fred showed his cards, a very poor assortment of low colours.

"No hard feelings." He grinned and scooped up the cash. "All goes in the College fund."

"Good thing to save up for." Isuro nodded. "Which one are you planning on going to?"

"Going to?" Fred grinned. "At this rate I'll be buying one!"

"Yeah very funny." Toby huffed. "Ha ha, outsmarted by a fourteen year old!"

Jors cocked his head. "Now you mention it, that is pretty damn hilarious."

"Don't you start." The co-pilot grumbled. "I tell you it's the Calendar curse! No one else can take such bad luck and come out so damn successful!"

"Life's what you make it." Fred was still grinning. "Besides, poker is easy. Uncle Francis taught me everything I know."

"Uncle Francis has a lot to answer for." Jors said in good humour.

"Typical of the family." Toby continued complaining. "Just look at his dad, he gets into the middle of a war against the most powerful enemy ever, with a couple of pop guns and no armour, and he winds up a multi millionaire spy hero with a hot Secret agent Ninja chick girlfriend! It isn't fair!"

"No it isn't." Fred agreed happily. "But damn it's fun!"

Jenny couldn't help a smile, she didn't often like to dwell on the past, it had too many painful memories to it, but sometimes she was reminded that before her loss there were some great days, the best of her life. They had been incredibly dangerous and blood soaked, but for a young EIA agent on her first mission they had been days of high adventure. She hated to admit it, especially as now she had a son, but she really missed those days sometimes, and of course always missed her true love.

"I can't believe you let him clean you out again." She announced her presence wryly, sauntering up to the table and sitting down beside them. "You know my boy is good at this."

"It's all Francis' fault." Jors pointed out. "When did he get so good at Poker?"

"He picked it up from Secretary Sheridan." Jenny answered. "Now that is a man you never try and bluff, he'll read you like a Teep."

The EarthGov Poker club was an institution, a small circle of senior diplomats, agents, politicians and officers who met regularly to play each other at cards. It was an exclusive club and though a lot of people played with them only a handful were considered full members. Less well known was the true nature of the group, something Jenny had been inducted into and had sworn never to reveal, not even to her own child. There were a number of dark groups in the Earth Alliance, groups that operated beyond the control of the Government or the military. Thanks to the small circle of utterly loyal people who made up the core of this little club, those shadowy groups did not operate unopposed.

"So are we done here?" Fred asked. "Time to go?"

"Pretty eager aren't you?" Jenny smiled sideways.

"Just a chance to make time on the Race." He answered honestly. "I love that little ship."

Toby pointed. "Told you, Calendar curse! Who else looks forward to hopping on a ship instead of getting planet side?"

There was a beep which drew the attention of most of the room to the wide screen displays in the bar, usually reserved for sporting events or feature films. They blinked on showing a view of space, the easily recognisable struts of the jump gate dominating the foreground. The whole room fell silent in anticipation as the system energised, flickering lights heralding the build up of power that would break through normal space and open the way for an incoming ship.

Half the crowd was expecting a Minbari ship to show up, guns blazing as it foretold the extermination of mankind, but no such portent arrived. Instead the vortex opened brightly and briefly, just long enough to deposit two heavy cruisers that coasted towards the transfer point.

"Ours." Toby stated the obvious.

"Always good to see them come home." Isuro related honestly.

"Lexington and Endymion." Jenny caught the names. "John Sheridan and Bill Hague."

"We're going to be in good company." Jors remarked. "Only guys more reckless than we are."

"I heard they nuked a Minbari base." Fred said with glee. "Gave those bone headed bastards a shock!"

"Hey, less of that language." Jenny chided. "And yeah, I bet they did." She watched as the ships decelerated, moving to take station outside and begin transferring supplies. "Everyone knows the most dangerous thing in the galaxy is John Sheridan sat on a pile of nukes."

"Or a certain Jenny Sakai with a Smith and Wesson and a bad attitude." Jors added with a grin.

"At least a nuke is quick." Toby agreed.

"So's a bullet to the skull!" Jenny defended. "Well, usually."

"Yeah, it's the beating you get before then that sucks." Toby laughed. "But they always deserve it."

"I never dealt with anyone who didn't have it coming." Jenny nodded firmly. "Just a little professional pride there."

"So how many people have you killed Mom?" Fred asked to awkward silence.

For a few moments the table was quiet, until Isuro sighed and broke the atmosphere.

"I remember when I asked my mother the same question." He smiled. "Six she said, and after growing up with her cooking I can believe it."

"My Mum killed thirty four." Jors nodded. "She was a devil with an axe, real Valkyrie. I mean literally, she was a Valkyrie."

"Funny guys, very funny." Fred winced. "We're not like other families are we?"

"Not many have a parent with a kill count in the hundreds." Toby answered with a nod, getting a sharp look from Jenny. "Not that this one does either…. Shutting up now."

Jenny turned her attention back to her son. "We are different, but not in any of the ways that matter. We're a family, all of us, and that's all that counts."

"And if anyone tries to break us up, you can break their necks, right mom?" Fred teased.

Jenny winked to him. "With one hand tied behind my back."

Proxima

Earth Alliance Space

The planet was not much to look at, a shrouded rock of browns and tans dominated by scrubland and rocky savannah. It had none of the qualities of Earth, its seas were shallow and few, its temperate areas were clustered beneath the dusty skies in the north and south close to the poles. The majority of the world was harsh, unlovely and only just able to support human life without relying on domed colonies.

But none of that really mattered. Proxima was mankind's first extra solar colony, it commanded the only stable jump route to Sol and as an extra bonus held a couple of worlds in the inner reaches of the system that were rich in Quantium 40, a tremendous stroke of luck for humanity as it took its first steps into the wider galaxy.

There were colonies far more lovely, demi paradises with lush climates, temperate vegetation and beaches that stretched for eternity. There were richer colonies, systems with greater reserves of Quantium or other valuable minerals. There were more populous colonies where a more pleasant environment allowed people to spread out and settle more easily, but none of these colonies were Proxima, and regrettably many were no longer in human hands.

In addition to it's location Proxima was also one of the most industrialised locations in the Earth Alliance, it's surface dotted with factories and orbit dominated by the famous Proxima ship yards. With easy access to raw materials, manufacturing facilities and Quantium, Proxima had become a natural hub of ship building rapidly growing during the Dilgar war into humanities largest and most extensive manufacturing facility of any kind. The vast spiderweb of shipyards, space docks and refuelling booms had only grown during the current war and in its current incarnation the Proxima ship yards were a sprawling mass of barely organised metal.

Beside the shipyards a quartet of well armed Orion stations were dotted around the planet along with an extensive defence grid reflecting the value of the world. Alongside these modern defences were several older battle stations, the earliest one dating back to the first colonisation efforts decades ago. They were not worth much in a fight but had been upgraded to hold and maintain the latest Starfuries, and that was something.

Large convoys passed daily through the system, waiting for the timed activation of the beacon segment between Proxima and Earth to deliver their cargo or passengers. Ships arrived laden with fresh troops or weapons and left filled with refugees heading for the imagined safety of Earth or Mars. Everyone knew Proxima was next, that the Minbari would be here soon and so those who could get out were going.

It was a bitter parting for most, abandoning their home and possessions in the realisation they would likely not see either ever again. Within a few weeks their world would be a battleground, one more colony to defend, one more Minbari victory for stomach. The only difference here was that Earth Force was prepared to fight tooth and nail for Proxima, which probably meant even more widespread destruction than usual.

No one thought they would hold the world against a determined attack, and that was the attitude the sector commander had to change.

That responsibility fell largely on the shoulders of General Johan Smits, the newly appointed military governor of the Proxima system and the man all of humanity would be looking towards when the time to fight came. Normally Proxima had a civilian government largely responsible for running its own affairs, though naturally subordinate to the Earth Senate. That right of self governance had been suspended during the war and martial law had been declared as a reflection of the dangerous situation that was brewing. General Smits had full authority and could essentially rule by decree, if he wanted to he could exercise his draconian powers and become a full blown military dictator and remain within EA law. Fortunately Smits was not such a man.

While he had not seen frontline action in the Dilgar war Smits had been instrumental in the planning and organising of the offensive. His actions had focused on logistics, convoy organisation, and the quick and efficient redeployment of warships from one sector to another anticipating the needs of the General staff and combat commanders. While his role didn't get him into the papers it was no less valuable than any other contribution, and his skills as an organiser and administrator were well recognised by Earth Force.

Those same skills now came into play on Proxima III. Smits had two main areas of responsibility, the first being to deploy his ground forces in such a way that the Minbari had no idea exactly how many soldiers they were facing at any given time in the campaign. That had been a serious test of his long term vision, forcing him to anticipate where and when the Minbari would land, what their objectives would be, and how he could best upset them. Smits had ordered the excavation of vast underground caverns and a network of subterranean tunnels that allowed the swift and safe movement of large forces without exposing them to overhead attack. He had placed the tunnels and deployment areas near expected targets, mainly industrial centres and open plains suitable for Minbari bases, and then sat back and crossed his fingers the Minbari followed their usual deployment plans.

His second and no less vital area of responsibility was the evacuation of Proximan industry out of the path of the Minbari and relocate it back to Sol. If preparing the defence was a nightmare of forward planning the relocation of something as vastly complex as the Proxima shipyards was Logistical hell. There were hundreds of miles of interlocked structure, none of which was designed to be mobile and certainly never expected to fit through a jump gate. In peacetime neither of Smits jobs would have been considered realistic, but with the Minbari on the way it hadn't even been discussed. He had his orders, and remarkably he had actually done a thorough job of fulfilling them.

"Just can't be done." The short man fumed. "Not happening."

"Mr Vinetti." General Smits replied patiently, resting behind his desk in an ocean of calm. "I assure you it can be done, and it will be done."

Leo Vinetti, one of the Belt Alliances high rollers and member of the Executive Board just shook his head. "I'm telling you General, the tolerances won't work."

Smits' office was located on one of the four Orions, somewhat larger than most to reflect his importance and boasted a window that looked out into space, the rotation of the space station giving him a sweeping view of both the planet and shipyards in sequence.

"We've already dismantled and moved huge sections of the shipyards." The General continued patiently. "We sliced them up, your haulers pulled them through the gate, and then we bolted them back together at Mars or Io."

"Yeah, and that was fine." Vinetti said. "They were big and bulky but didn't have a whole lot of mass, my tugs could handle it."

"So I don't see the problem now."

"Problem is you're asking me to tow sections of the shipyard with ships still in them." The Belter countered. "And that's a whole new deal."

Smits shrugged. "I don't see any problem. I worked with the Belt Alliance in the last war, I know what your haulers are capable of."

"Don't get me wrong, they got plenty of power, but this…"

"If I recall your ships had no problem towing pieces of starbases across the League." The General referred to the prefab Dionysus stations that had been a vital contribution to maintaining the EA offensive against the Dilgar.

"Those were different, again bulky but light. You're talking about half built warships. Those things are heavy, especially if you're pulling a whole crap load of space dock with it."

"So use some extra ships." Smits suggested. "I know mot Belt freighters have tow cables, use them to supplement the haulers and tugs."

"I don't have any to spare, they're all loaded up with refugees."

"They can't do both?"

Vinetti scowled. "Those ships are already overloaded, having them pull a cargo too…"

"Can it be done Mr Vinetti?" Smits asked.

"It's going to kill the engines. Towing something like that in hyperspace is like driving a big rig truck in a hurricane. You catch a bad current or edge of a storm, you lose everything. In this case that includes ten thousand civilians."

Smits nodded and turned to the window, distant ships moving slowly like fine dots of light in the far distance. Maintenace ships and bots divided up the extended pieces of the shipyards with tiny showers of sparks that faded quickly in the vacuum.

"Do it Mr Vinetti." The General said. "We can't afford to lose two dozen Dreadnoughts before they are ready."

"It's a big risk for my people."

The General gave him a cold stare. "Maybe you'd like to have your people join the soldiers on the ground?"

Vinetti averted his gaze.

"We all have risks to take." Smits informed. "Those ships capable of moving under their own power will do, the others will require your assistance."

"Can you give me any extra resources?"

"The only thing I can give you is a deadline." Smits answered. "Two weeks."

Vinnetti's eyes widened as he got ready to protest, but then thought better of it. "I'll do what I can."

"The Belt Alliance is the only group that can handle this job. You have my full confidence."

Vinetti nodded before inhaling. "There is one thing, the Medusa."

SMits nodded slowly. "Go on."

"I've got nothing that can shift that beast and its yard through hyperspace, nothing. It'd take my four biggest tugs and I can't spare them. I just can't."

The Medusa was berthed at the centre of the Proximan yards, a pure battleship and largest ship in Earth Force it was nearly two kilometres long and massed as much as three Nova Dreadnoughts due to its extraordinary armour. It's flanks bristled with twice the firepower of a Nova, it simply could not fit more guns onto its hull without compromising its massive armour belts. At its stern were a series of titanic engines fed by a cluster of reactors generating four times the power of its Dreadnought siblings, able to provide it with a respectable turn of speed for something so hideously big.

If Earth Force pursued a policy of bigger equalling better, the Medusa was the ultimate expression of that philosophy. She was expected to live long enough and keep enough guns operational to close with the Minbari, get in among them and just fire in every direction at point blank range. It was exactly the same principle that had led to the Nova but on a grander scale, and in theory it could work. On the handful of occasions a Nova had actually managed to broadside a Sharlin they had demonstrated enough raw gun power to gut the enemy vessel in a very short period of time, about the same time it took for a Sharlin to kill the Nova resulting in mutual annihilation. With its extra armour and mass the Medusa should be able to survive such a confrontation, finally giving Earth the tools to take the war to the Minbari fleet.

All they needed were about five hundred of the monster ships, all they had was one partially built prototype which hadn't even been tested.

"We're focusing on the Medusa's engines." Smits answered. "You worry about the rest of the ships, we'll worry about getting her out under her own power."

The Belt Alliance Official allowed himself a small amount of relief, he still had a mountain to move but at least the worst offender was no longer his concern. "I better start assigning ships."

"As soon as possible please." Smits agreed.

The Belter sighed heavily. "Never thought I'd see us leave Proxima."

"We aren't leaving, we'll stay until the last human draws his or her last breath." Smits said flatly. "Unfortunately that might be what happens, and if we can save something for the future we should at least try."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Those ships out there might save Earth when they are finished." Smits informed sombrely. "They're no good to us here, but what happens at Proxima could decide the fate of humanity. We all need to play our part, whatever that turns out to be."

"Then I better go." Vinetti stood. "I'll keep you up to date."

"Couldn't do it without you." Smits said honestly. "If you need an escort let me know."

"I think we can handle it, until later General."

Vinetti left in a hurry, and Smits shifted his arm over the desk, grabbed a pen and ticked off another item on his to do list. The final item on that list read 'Survive the war' and while certainly his most cherished wish he had severe doubts about being around in a few months to tick it. He had a job to do and he'd do it, but survival didn't look like it was going to be on the cards.

He was interrupted by a chime from the small silver link on the back of his hand, the almost forgettable communication device that was ever present on Earth Force personnel.

"Smits here." He answered calmly, drawing on his spirit to avoid sounding dejected. He had to provide a positive example for his people at all times no matter his own thoughts and feelings.

"Sir, you wanted to be informed when the Dreadnought Justinian arrived." A voice responded.

"Very good, thank you control."

He rose from his chair and with a quick parting glance at Proxima made his way out and to the main transport tube. On the way he exchanged greetings and pleasantries with the station staff and officers passing through, grinning, passing on one or two bad jokes and generally livening up the atmosphere. Smits projected an air of utter certainty and confidence, a man who was willing to not only stand up to the incoming storm but to laugh in its face and mock its ferocity.

He wasn't a field commander and probably never would be, but despite his rather crabby attitude at times Smits was rapidly becoming one of the most widely liked and respected men in Earth Force.

Smits arrived at the edge of the docking bay, waiting in what would have been customs when the station still handled civilian traffic. A group of refugees had recently passed through leaving empty food wrappers and paper cups lying on the floor and seats along with a few forgotten items of clothing and a well worn cuddly toy. Smits reflected on whether some small child somewhere would be bemoaning the loss of its favourite toy, or whether its loss would even be noticed amid the flight. Every tiny trinket, discarded item or footprint on the floor had a story behind it, a life that had touched it. Everything was an echo of some person that had lived and breathed in this space before moving on to an uncertain future. One day those echoes of worlds touched and history altered may be all that remained of the human race. Legends in the League of a people who turned back the demons, only to grow prideful and fall as so many others had before.

Not much of an epitaph for such a people.

The airlock to customs slid open and allowed a single man through, middle aged with greying hair but a straight posture. He wore Earth Force blue and on his shoulders bore the four gilt stars of a full General.

"Alexei, welcome aboard."

"Johan." General Denisov firmly shook hands. "Been too long."

"Glad you made it in alright, with the beacons and the Minbari it's getting harder each time."

Denisov could only agree. "It was necessary, what we do here shapes the war and I have to be here in person to see it."

Alexei Denisov had been a hero of the Dilgar war, the Ukrainian career officer holding the position of Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of staff. In that capacity he had been the senior most soldier in Earth Force and largely responsible for setting policy and formulating the strategies that carried humanity from Altair to Omelos. Overall his role had been praised and he had been well regarded in all circles, though fame did not especially appeal to him. Denisov had stepped down as Chairman after a few years following the unwritten rule that no one person should serve in that role for too long and had accepted a position back in the fleet out among the stars, something he relished. Denisov had no problem living behind a desk and working with politicians, but after so long on Earth it was something special to be back in space.

The dream had faltered when the war with the Minbari began and Denisov was recalled to Earth. For most of the war he had been trying to formulate strategies for beating the Minbari, ways to slow them down and hinder them without throwing away ships and lives. With Admiral Ferguson he had created the concept of Guerrilla war on a starship scale best exemplified by Hague's Marauder units but had focused most of their efforts on forging a grand plan to finally halt the Minbari. Ferguson's death had been a tragic shock to the General, but Denisov finished the work he started and had set up Earth Forces final battle plan, the last chance they had of beating the Minbari.

"So Johan, how are things shaping up?" Denisov began walking, standing taller than Smits by a good half foot and looking a lot younger, despite the difference in age being rather small.

"We're on schedule." Smits confirmed. "It's going to be close with the shipyards, bad news there is we're likely to lose about twenty percent of our capacity."

"Unfortunate, but unavoidable."

"We've saved the big yards first and any ships under construction have priority. With luck our losses to manufacturing won't be too damaging."

The two officers proceeded to one of the small conference rooms before continuing. While it was hugely unlikely the Minbari had spies here, largely because they felt they didn't need such subtlety in such a simple act of military slaughter, training and instinct kept the two Generals mindful of security. The closed the door before Smits went into details about the plan itself.

"Our forces are also building up on schedule." Smits continued. "We're expecting another troop convoy from Io tomorrow which will bring us up to full strength."

"Do we have sufficient under ground cover?" Denisov asked.

"Enough for the plan, yes sir." Smits confirmed. "We can hide half a million troops and enough supplies for four months all out fighting."

Denisov grinned widely. "Hell of an achievement Johan, carving out all that rock."

"We used natural space wherever we could, especially under mountains." Smits said. "They should hold up to orbital strikes and are easily defended in case the Minbari try to break through."

"We'll give them a tunnel war like they've never seen." Denisov grunted. "They thought Cyrus was bad? Wait until they try to fight tanks underground."

"We kept the excavators down there so we can make new tunnels as needed." The shorter General added. "Keep the Minbari guessing where we'll show up next."

"Excellent. So which units did you get?"

"First and second armies will be our main force, they're already under ground and receiving their final supplies. Third army will be our first defence and the lure to draw in the Minbari."

Denisov nodded. "Tough job for them, are they up for it?"

"Only the senior officers know." Smits admitted. "Most of the army are green recruits, if we tell them they're being used as bait…"

"Point taken." Denisov allowed. "I'd prefer they knew, but its an ugly job."

"They have to endure the inevitable bombardment and then meet the initial waves unsupported." Smits nodded. "We project eighty percent casualties within the first three days."

"Bloody business." Denisov growled angrily. "But necessary, we have to show the Minbari what they expect, make them thing this battle will be the same as all the rest."

"Even at the cost of tens of thousands of lives?"

"Even at that cost." Denisov stated instantly. "If it's what we need to do to win this war, then it will be done."

Smits did not argue, given what was at stake such a desperate strategy seemed justified, though only just.

"Once the Minbari are down in force we will launch our counter attack. Given the size and skill of our forces we can roll them up and force them into a battle of attrition."

"The Minbari won't abandon Proxima." Denisov confirmed. "Once they put soldiers on the planet they won't withdraw, their honour won't allow it. They'll feed fresh troops in no matter the cost because they won't let us drive them away and inflict a major defeat. This is or chance to bleed their armies dry and force them to expend lives and resources better used elsewhere."

"I agree they'll fight, but if we don't remove their orbital superiority once our armies hit the field they'll be decimated."

"That will be our job in the fleet." Denisov informed. "We know the Minbari are jittery the closer they get to Earth. They know we killed Dukhat and can't understand why we haven't inflicted more losses, they think we're saving our elite until they get close to our homeworld. The EIA has been fuelling these rumours, making fake broadcasts, forging reports from Minbari scouts, that sort of thing."

"All fine sir, but we don't have anything like that and the Minbari will find out soon."

"Exactly, so our aim will be to keep them guessing and make them think the counter attack by our elite is due any day during the campaign."

Smits huffed in concern. "Tall order to keep them guessing like that."

"I know, but the EIA has put its best people on it. We'll be conducting raids that look like spoiling attacks and recon work to draw the Minbari away from Proxima, try to keep them away from their soldiers long enough for our people to make a difference."

"Even if they do move the fleet into open space, they're bound to keep a couple of ships on sentry duty to prevent our vessels making flyby raids on their base like Bill did at Beta Durani." Smits pointed out. "Even a single ship could smash our forces."

"The EIA is on that too, we're going to turn it to our advantage." Denisov assured. "The hard bit will be the first day of the attack. We have to make it look like we're hitting the Minbari just as hard as always, make them think we're throwing everything into the defence but at the same time try to conserve as many lives as we can."

"Whichever way it goes we're going to lose a lot of people during the assault." Smits said with certainty. "It had better be worth it."

"It has to be." Denisov said simply.

"We've fought the Minbari plenty of times before." Smits considered the situation. "We never won before, why this time?"

"Because we're loading the dice, making them play by our rules." Denisov said. "We can't beat them in space, but on the ground we have a chance. The problem is how to turn a decisive victory on the ground into an event that can turn the war."

"Losing an army is bad, but as long as the Minbari have their fleet I can't see it making much of a difference."

"We need time Johan, that's what this is about." Replied Denisov simply. "We draw this battle out until the boys back home figure out some new weapons or build more ships. All our intel says the same thing, the Minbari were geared up for a quick war and they can't handle a prolonged bloody conflict. So that's what we give them."

"It's sure as hell what they've been giving us."

"We don't need to defeat them, just stop them long enough for someone somewhere to come to their senses. The Minbari are still on some insane Crusade, they need a sharp slap around the face to wake them up, make them realise what they are doing. A defeat would do that."

"They still might just flatten us."

"They might." Denisov acknowledged. "But even damaging them makes a difference. Look at our ships, we get one back full of holes and a month or two later its back in action. You remember the Charybdis? Whole forward bow shot off. We cut it away, slapped a new one on and it was back in action within four days, just four days!"

"Beauty of modular design." Smits nodded.

"But a Minbari ship, they aren't built like that. Our reports show that a ship that takes damage requires a massive overhaul to fix. Those ships aren't built, they're crafted, they're little pieces of art. Our ships are pure function, there's are a statement and they take forever to fix. Ships hit at the start of the war still aren't back on the field. The Minbari are having a hard time keeping up their numbers."

The senior General started ticking off examples on his fingers.

"We've seen damaged ships in the Minbari front line, we've seen ships operating slower or firing less than their sisters and we know from intel that spare parts and fuel are beginning to run short. We are wearing them down Johan, the fact they have to use damaged or ineffective ships to bulk up their numbers proves we're having an effect."

"So essentially our plan is to disable their ships by forcing the Minbari to use them too much slaughtering us?"

"Think of it as a prize fighter standing still and letting his opponent hit him in the face seventy or eighty times." Denisov smiled slightly. "Either we fall down with brain damage, or he has an aneurysm from the strain of punching us."

"That has got to be the craziest plan ever to be invented."

"It's the only thing we've got that will work." Denisov shrugged. "They are pushing themselves to breaking point by pursuing this war fanatically. If they had planned to fight it over a course of five or six years, it'd be a different story."

"Different for us too." Smits mentioned wistfully.

"This is where we make them fight us." Denisov said with firmness. "We back them into a corner and give them no choice, fight or be dishonoured."

"If they lose it'll break the idea of Minbari invincibility, that their gods are guaranteeing victory." Smits thought out loud.

"And if they withdraw it breaks the credibility of the Warrior caste and weakens public resolve that they are on a course to glorious victory. Plus as a bonus we force them to burn more supplies than necessary, and that is never a waste."

Smits could see the point of the plan, classic attrition which favoured the large reserves Earth still had to call on, but the Minbari still had huge technological advantages to exploit that could upset things badly for Earth Force.

"If they do stand, they'll go all out with their army." Smits warned. "Our guys are good, but the Minbari are still lethal. These Windsword guys have had centuries of practice at armoured warfare, and Star Riders are supposed to be the most mobile mechanised infantry in the galaxy."

"That they are." Denisov agreed. "The Minbari are fast, ruthess and hit like a sledgehammer. But they also lack initiative and have a glass jaw. They'll fight to the death, but break their lines and they won't be able to recover. They're warriors Johan, we're soldiers. You know what happens when Warriors fight Soldiers."

"These Warriors outgun us by about a thousand years."

"It isn't going to matter. We picked the ground, we picked the forces, we've picked the terms of victory. For the first time in this war the Minbari will be fighting on our terms. Time to turn the tables Johan, show the Minbari what it really means to fight Earth."

"Think we can win?"

"Win?" Denisov considered. "Probably not, but we don't need to hold Proxima, we just have to wear them down enough so that they can't move on Earth. That's our victory, no matter the cost."

Smits nodded, his heart echoing hollowly in his chest.

"Whatever the cost then, we'll be ready."


	5. Chapter 5

5

.

Mars

.

The transport tube was unusually empty, the multiple carriages usually packed with commuters heading home remained largely silent save for a few scattered souls alone with their thoughts. It was a reflection of the times, the type of jobs that had required frequent commuter trains, jobs in the city, in financial institutions, offices and shops, they had all been declared non essential and the people that worked in them had been transferred to the armed forces. It was subtle at first, but by these autumn days of the war the lack of young fit people in everyday life was palpable and constant. The planetary draft had not been popular and the conscript armies were little more than cannon fodder, but there was no other option.

Some industries were still burgeoning, the Martian mining guilds had never been larger and had plenty of fit men and women working for them who would otherwise have seen service. The Belt Alliance famously was still operational as were most military manufacturers and infrastructure maintenance groups. But generally those people worked long shifts and rarely crowded onto rush hour trains like city workers once had. The quiet in the streets was even more disturbing than panic and bustling. The whole planet felt weary, spent and exhausted. Its vibrancy and energy was gone and without its youth the whole of the Alliance core worlds seemed to sinking down to sleep, a sleep from which they would not awaken again.

Alfredo Garibaldi stepped off at his designated stop along with just two other people, both of them clearly too old for military service. Garibaldi himself wasn't exactly a young man anymore and middle age was rapidly sneaking up on him, but he was still in good physical shape and would have been on the front line, if not for his infernally wounded leg. He walked with a limp but was quite capable of sprinting and jumping if needed, the only downside was that such actions came with a shock of pain that lingered for nearly an hour afterwards. As far as he cared it was a small price to pay.

He was at least back in uniform and that meant a lot to the Sergeant Major. Garibaldi's life had meandered a lot in his youth, finding him in and out of trouble which invariably haunted his attempts to make a decent life. He was refused acceptance into the NYPD due to his criminal record, a record he didn't really deserve and despite his clear talent for police work. He had tried to indulge his other passion, cooking, but his restaurant had never really taken off despite, again, his exceptional talent. The army had taken him in, given him something to aim for and surrounded him with like minded people. His service had made him who he was, a better person than he could have hoped to be otherwise in his view, and he was glad to be back contributing even in such a small role. But he wanted to do more, it was his duty to fight and never more so than now.

It was not helped by the fact his only child was now on Proxima with nowhere near the level of training he needed, about to face the most deadly army humanity had encountered.

All these thoughts haunted Garibaldi, the fact that not only his son but his whole race was in a fight for survival and he could not bear arms in it. He felt ultimately useless, like he was depriving Earth of one more fighting man because of his old war wound. It was no fair or acceptable, and he increasingly needed to do something about it.

He arrived at his home, swiped his card in the lock and entered. It was a nice house, a big step up from his old army married quarters and funded by profits from his security business. He had made a success of himself between wars, lived a good life and helped a lot of people in between, including his son. However he had not done enough, and it was perhaps Alfredo's biggest regret that he had not helped drag his son up and out of his Alcoholism that came close to ruining his life.

That was all in the past, the army had beaten back his sons demons at least for now, but Alfredo still considered it a massive failing in his role as a father and one that was essential to put right. He hadn't done enough to help his son before, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

He was greeted by a welcoming smell of cooking food as he sealed the door behind him. This evening was an opportunity to try and push down his worries and enjoy some welcome company, he was going to be joined by Jenny Sakai, one of his oldest and dearest friends. His wife Sophia had been hard at work all day creating a traditional Italian meal and he was frankly really looking forward to it.

"Now that smells delicious!" He called out as he hung up his coat. "You still make the best dinner! I should be worried about my reputation as a supreme chef!"

He stepped back and headed for the kitchen but never made it, with complete suddenness his world suddenly spun out of control and pitched him to the floor in darkness.

He came too looking up into the dark eyes of his wife, Sophia gently soothing his brow with a look of extreme anxiety on her attractive features.

"Wow, that was unexpected." He allowed.

"No it wasn't." She said stiffly. "This is a symptom of your illness."

"Yeah, but it hasn't happened to me in months." He defended. "I thought I was over it."

"You never get over it." She helped him set up. "You can't get over it, not… not ever."

She was shivering even though the house was warm, and gently Garibaldi grasped her hand. "We've come to terms with this."

"I never did." She said. "Never will."

He grinned wide. "Hey, what do doctors know huh? They said I'd be dead two years ago! Well I'm still here and ticking aren't I?"

She nodded quietly. "Yeah."

"So don't worry about it, it's all just will power." He stood up, feeling queasy but not showing it. "I'm not ready to die yet, so the Reaper will have to take a seat and wait until I'm done with my life before he gets it."

The leg injury was not the only, or indeed the main reason Garibaldi was not on the front line. He also suffered from a neurological disease named Torg's syndrome, something which attacked the nervous system gradually reducing its victims to becoming vegetables, and then killed them. There was no known cure, and it was unlikely one would be found in the foreseeable future. One of the symptoms of the syndrome were blackouts as the centres of the brain were briefly cut off from their blood supplies. Sometimes Garibaldi remained conscious and paralysed, sometimes he just woke up with no idea what had happened. Understandably the Army could not risk such a thing happening on the front line when Garibaldi might be needed to make a critical choice.

There was no history of the illness in his family and most Doctors were confused as to where it had come from, until some research on Balos stumbled onto records of the Dilgar using variations of Torg's Syndrome as a biological weapon. It seemed that the horrifying truth was that Garibaldi had picked it up during his service in the war, and that the Dilgar would seemingly have their final revenge. Such exotic illnesses were disturbingly common among Dilgar war Veterans, sadly any long term studies had been rendered moot thanks to the Minbari prematurely ending the lives of many veterans during their own quest for bloody vengeance.

For his part Garibaldi refused to give up or accept his days were numbered. He had too much to live for, not least of which was protecting his son. He owed Michael a great debt, one he was going to repay no matter what. Through pure will power and determination Alfredo had proven the doctors wrong, surviving long after their predictions said he would be gone. His black outs had all but vanished despite the disease progressing more and more. He wasn't going to be beaten by this, not when he still had so much to do.

"Back to normal." He beamed for Sophia's sake. "I just need a good meal."

She was ready to protest, ready to tell him to get into bed and rest, but she did not, she knew it would be useless. Her husband had decided he was going to live a normal life to the end and not spend his last months in a bed. He might not last as long, but his last days would be good days, normal days, and that meant the world to him. Sophia was not going to disappoint his wishes.

"I have just the thing." She smiled weakly. "Even with your appetite!"

"Can't beat good food, one of the great pleasures of life." He held her closely. "I am a lucky man you know, even with all that's going to happen, look what I have."

He smiled widely and shared a meaningful kiss.

"I wouldn't change it, and even if this is the price I pay, I wouldn't give up anything even if I could live forever it'd be torture if all this was gone instead."

They embraced like that for several minutes, accepting for the thousandth time what was coming, the parting they would one day endure, and resolving not to let it sour the remaining days.

"I'll go set the table." He said at length. "You better check on the oven, can't let your perfect record slip by letting the food get overdone."

She smiled back. "It'll be a great evening, we all deserve it."

He nodded in complete agreement.

"The best."

Jenny had an odd laugh, more of a cackle really combined with a horse like snort. It was entirely out of place and bore nothing in common with her rich voice or classical looks, a quirk of her nature that on the surface was not especially appealing to listen to but when taken as a whole merely enhanced her personality. It made her unique, contradictory, something that defied expectations and Garibaldi liked that. It suited her.

"It did not happen like that!" She managed through her cackling uncontrolled laughter.

"It absolutely did!" Garibaldi retorted back. "You were there in your birthday suit, glaring daggers at the Narn Ambassador, and he just couldn't look away!"

"How did I know the shower would short out the door locks!" Jenny threw back. "And he wasn't due for the meeting for an hour!"

"So this guy G'Kar is just stood there like a statue, with his jaw on the deck, he's just speechless!"

"So I asked him to leave." Jenny remarked.

"Yeah, not in those words!" Garibaldi laughed. "I can't even repeat that language, I'm a Drill Instructor and even I wouldn't say those things!"

"He came this close to losing his head." She pinched her fingers. "You'd think he'd never seen a woman before!"

"Not like that!" Garibaldi roared with laughter. "I've never seen a man so big run so fast!"

"At least it didn't create a diplomatic incident." Jenny shrugged. "Well, not a bad one."

"Funny ending though." Garibaldi said. "I hear that after that he can't get enough of Earth girls. Nice one Jenny, looks like you turned him!"

The two old friends roared with laughter at the memory, before Sophia raised an eyebrow.

"So Freddy, what were you doing there at the same time Miss Sakai was stood in the buff?"

He went very quiet, before both women broke out in laughter.

"I was escorting G'Kar!" He defended. "Honestly! I wouldn't peek on Jenny, she'd break every bone in my body!"

"I wouldn't have the chance!" The Agent chuckled. "You're wife would beat me too it."

"Yeah, you better believe it!" Sophia nodded. "I have a radar, an early warning system for situations like this. I find a good back hand solves these problems before they get out of control."

"She isn't wrong." Garibaldi allowed with a grin. "But with a girl like this, who needs anything more?"

"Aww." Jenny grinned. "You're a great couple, sometimes I guess marriage works."

"With a back hand like hers, damn straight!" Garibaldi finished a glass of wine. "Good days."

"Good days." She agreed. "Can't beat a little free lancing now and again."

"That Narn job paid for this house." Garibaldi agreed. "And always good to have the old gang working together."

"Always." She agreed readily.

"Speaking of how's my nephew? Honorary nephew anyway."

Jenny smiled wide at the mention. "Fred is doing great, all things considered of course."

"Of course." Sophia agreed. "This war doesn't help anyone."

"He's quite the pilot, I think he could his cousin Catherine a good run for her money." Jenny informed. "He wants to fly a Starfury but there's no way. He's going to survive this war, even if I have to kill every Minbari in the galaxy with my own two hands to ensure it."

"Count me in on that." Garibaldi promised.

"That leg still keeping you out here?" She frowned. "No justice."

"No, but I'm working on it." He answered. "Garibaldi's other illness remained a closely guarded secret, only his immediate family knew of it.

"They'll be at Proxima next." She said quietly. "I know Michael is going to be okay."

"He's got his father's luck." Sophia smiled. "How many times have you beaten certain death?"

"Four or five." Garibaldi grinned. "Almost as many times as Jenny."

"Yeah, we had some hectic times." She had to admit. "But we did our best, and they were all worth it. Every single one."

"They were." Garibaldi affirmed. "And at a high cost."

"But blood well spent." Jenny stated. "I've come to see that, fighting in this war makes me see the last one in a different light."

"Still running missions?" Garibaldi asked. "Dangerous game."

"Especially with Minbari." Jenny nodded. "Got scorched a few times, but we're still here." She smiled thinly. "Last mission was something different though, whole new world of creepy."

"Minbari?" Sophia asked.

"Worse, and also classified. Sorry."

"It's okay." Garibaldi dismissed. "I'm probably happier not knowing."

"Take it from me, you really are."

As they returned to finishing off their dinner there was a chime from the front door that raised their attention.

"Expecting anyone else?" Jenny wondered.

"No, not today." Garibaldi shook his head. "I'll go see who it is."

Jenny sat back in her chair, loosening her trim jacket a little so she could swiftly draw her hidden PPG pistol from its holster. Old habits died hard.

She listened carefully, and was relieved when she heard Garibaldi's laugh welcoming in the guest.

"Look who it is!" He returned to the dining room with a suited man in tow, a face Jenny recognised at once.

"Francis?" She exclaimed. "Talk about surprises!"

"I brought drink." The EIA analyst waved a bottle of wine.

"That pays your way." Garibaldi confirmed. "Sit down, we haven't got much food left but you're in time for dessert."

"Even better." Francis grinned and found himself a chair.

"Francis O'Leary." Jenny mused with a smile. "I'm shocked, I expected you to be much too busy to come out here."

"It does get pretty hectic." The man said. "Especially with my new responsibilities."

"They made you department head?"

He nodded. "Codes and comms."

She smiled widely. "You deserve it, I mean you've been running your own team for a while but this is something more. Well done."

"Nice work Francis." Sophia congratulated. As part of her husbands security business Sophia had in the past worked alongside the EIA and had a particular level of clearance similar to that enjoyed by Garibaldi himself or the crew of the Space Race.

Garibaldi returned to the table with the desserts and shared them out.

"It's been years since we last met like this." The Sergeant said with a smile. "How are the kids?"

"Growing fast!" Francis smiled. "They'll be nine this year."

"Twins weren't they?" Garibaldi checked.

"Yeah, but not identical." He confirmed. "Dom and Eve."

"Dermot and Everil." Jenny remembered more properly. "After your friends?"

"That's right. You met Dom in the war, he was in Freddy's platoon."

"He runs it now." Garibaldi said. "He made Sergeant before the war. Good for him."

"Good for him." Francis agreed.

"So what brings you out here?" Sophia asked.

"Business I'm afraid." He said. "I have another job for the Race."

"Came about quick." Jenny said.

"I know, but it's urgent. That's why I had to come and find you."

She nodded. "Well I guess the war won't stop for me to have a rest. What do you need?"

"The usual, we need you to take a team in." Francis said. "This time to Proxima."

Garibaldi raised his eyes at the mention of Proxima, but kept eating.

"I thought we still owned the planet?" Jenny asked.

"We do, and if you go soon enough it might be just a simple drop, no risk." Francis said. "But if the Minbari do show up…"

"Then you'll need a ship with experience to run the blockade." Jenny guessed. "I see what you mean."

"Standard ten man team." Francis informed. "Same job as usual. Get them down and leave them to it."

"Are they ready?"

"Just drawing their gear, we're scheduled for three tomorrow morning."

Jenny nodded. "We'll be ready. I mean we'll be grumpy at that time of the morning, but we'll be ready."

"Good, it's vital we get this team in before the Minbari seal orbit. They're going to be very useful down there."

"We'll get it done." She said. "The Calendar Co hasn't failed to deliver a package yet."

Francis grinned. "I believe it. How is your son anyway?"

"He's got his father's gift for finding trouble." Jenny smiled.

"And his mother's gift for getting out of it." Garibaldi added. "He's a good kid, he'll go far."

"I'm going to make sure of it." Jenny said simply. No one doubted it.

They spent more of the evening sharing stories and catching up, enjoying memories of better days while the future collapsed about them. There might never come a day like this again, there might not be anyone left to reminisce about these times around a table of friends, but it didn't matter. They enjoyed their time for what it was, then made their gestures and parted.

"Next time come earlier." Garibaldi walked Francis to the door. "You missed Sophia's cooking, and that's just a crime."

"I will." Francis promise, ignoring whether or not he would ever have a chance. "it was a good evening."

"Always are."

He shook hands. "See you round Crowbar."

"Take care Francis, and take care of the family." Garibaldi returned. "Whatever it takes, keep them safe."

"I will." He nodded. "Whatever I have to give up, they'll survive."

"That's a true father talking." Garibaldi smiled. "I know they'll be fine with that attitude. See you after the war."

He stepped into the night, looking up through the dome at the stars.

"So much changes down here, but up there it always looks the same." He looked back. "We're not going to go so easy. I can't say more, but even if they make it to Earth, we're far from finished."

Francis headed away, and Jenny followed to the door, fastening her coat.

"Your wife is the best." She said simply. "When I hit Proxima I'll get you some news on Mikey."

"About that." Garibaldi said. "I sort of need a favour from you."

"A favour?"

"Yeah, say, you remember that time when I saved your life and the life of your unborn son?"

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "Well I'll say this, you know how to open a negotiation. What is it?"

Garibaldi didn't sleep much that night. He rose at One A.M and quietly dressed, putting on his old but still crisp combat uniform and recording a video message for Sophia. He had his responsibilities, he had things he had to do, and he couldn't ignore them. He sneaked downstairs, tied on his boots and headed from the door.

He wasn't especially surprised to see his wife waiting for him in the hallway, arms folded.

"We've been married way too long for you to pull off something like this Freddy."

He stood straight. "I got somewhere I need to be."

"Proxima?" she asked.

"So you heard then?"

"I didn't have to." She tapped her head. "Radar remember."

He nodded. "I'm going for our son. I'm going to find him and keep him alive."

"I know." Sophia looked down and with a heavy heart stepped aside. "And you need to go."

Garibaldi walked forward and paused beside her. There was a lot he felt he should say, but the beauty of it all was Sophia already knew. It remained unspoken, but not unsaid.

"I've seen you go to foreign worlds, get into the middle of wars, risk your life so many times." She said in barely a whisper.

"This will be the last one."

"I know." She replied quietly. "That's what makes it so hard."

"We're never really apart, not ever. Never have been, never will be."

She smiled. "I'm going to miss you, you stubborn old bugger."

"At least you'll have some peace and quiet around the house." He chuckled. "Less cleaning with just you here."

"Stop looking on the bright side." She chided.

He nodded slowly. "It's better this way. Better than the other way."

Sophia nodded slowly. "You're going to be late."

"Yeah, I better get moving." Garibaldi said. "Until we meet again."

"I'll be waiting." She said with a weight of immense sadness, but tempered with incredible strength. "Goodbye love."

"Goodbye love." He said back.

"Freddy." She stopped him at the door. "Bring our son home."

"I promise."

Sophia Garibaldi stood by the door as her husband walked into the dark night, respecting his final wishes. She always knew he wasn't the sort of man to just fade away, that wasn't who she married. If his life ended doing something good and grand and noble, then he would pass from the world happy, and Sophia would not resent that.

She was still there when the sun rose, making her own wish on the rays of the rising star. She had two men in her life, her husband and son. One would not be coming back, but she prayed that the other would.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,  
Tears from the depth of some divine despair  
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,  
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,  
And thinking of the days that are no more.  
.

.

.

.

.

"Shall we fight or shall we fly?

Good Sir Richard, tell us now,

For to fight is but to die!

There'll be little of us left by the time this sun be set."

And Sir Richard said again: "We be all good English men.

Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil,

For I never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet."

Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roared a hurrah, and so

The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,

With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;

For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen,

And the little Revenge ran on through the long sea-lane between.

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea,

But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.

Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came,

Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame;

Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame.

For some were sunk and many were shattered, and so could fight us no more—

God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?

And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer sea,

And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;

But they dared not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still could sting,

So they watched what the end would be.

And we had not fought them in vain,

But Sir Richard cried in his English pride:

"We have fought such a fight for a day and a night

As may never be fought again!

We have won great glory, my men!

And a day less or more

At sea or ashore,

We die—does it matter when?

Sink me the ship, Master Gunner—sink her, split her in twain!

Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"

.

Jeffrey Sinclair turned the yellowed page, crisp but supple yet in the ancient book he held dear above all other possessions, his eyes reading the same lines they had many times before but never finding them plain or bland of depth and meaning. This book he held was more than ink and paper bound in soft leather, it was his history and his ancestry. This book had been among the Sinclair family for generations, passed down one to the next, father to son, mother to daughter for almost four centuries. It was relic, preserved and honoured all that time and for Jeffrey it meant more than he could express.

The book had been printed in the nineteenth century, a first edition collection of poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, a man who's words had imprinted themselves indelibly on the young pilot. The book had been signed by Tennyson himself and gifted to one of Sinclair's ancestors, Reginald Sinclair who had participated in the legendary Charge of the Light Brigade so vividly described by the poet in his most famous work.

Sinclair kept the book in a metal box, air tight and precisely engineered to preserve the manuscript. Really it should be in a sealed glass case back home but instead it was here out at Proxima never more than a few inches from its owners heart both literally and figuratively. Sinclair had considered it for a long time, but with the war going the way it was Earth was no more safe than anywhere else, and laying the book to rest in his home may simply have postponed its destruction. No, if this piece of history was to be snatched away by Alien fire then it would go to eternity beside the heart of its final owner, both lost in a final defiant battle against the enemies of man.

It was something Sinclair knew his ancestors would understand, that it was better to face the inevitable with a fire in the heart and defiance in the soul instead of hiding broken beneath the glare of raining destruction. It was a message the book told him time and again, the words imbued with the spirit of courage that for so long had been a hallmark of the fighting men and women of humanity. As far as Sinclair was concerned that fundamental truth was captured no where better than in Tennyson's words, the writings in the book the truest expression of what was great and what was terrible about the human character.

He continued to read the poem in the Squadron ready room, his colleagues in the 361st Fighter Squadron chatting and joking, a couple of them tossing a ball back and forth while all waited for the next chapter of the war. They had no idea what would come next, only that it would probably be their last battle. They faced it with high spirits, drawing on a courage that stemmed from something deeper than bravado. As Sinclair read on, drinking in Tennyson's Ballad to the ancient warship HMS Revenge and it's hopeless final battle he saw in those words the reality that lived around him.

Hope was thin on the ground, but for Sinclair that was nothing new. His ancestors seemed to have an unnatural ability at getting into the middle of hopeless battles and seeing them through, from defending his ancestral home in 1940 to taking on hordes of Chinese halo jets in World War Three, right up to the more recent Battle of Balos where the outnumbered and exhausted Earth Forces had met the elite of the Dilgar navy in a decisive confrontation that decided the war.

His Father had been a part of that, David Sinclair, Commander and Squadron leader of the 13th Tactical Fighter Squadron. They had been legends, the best unit in the Force and his father the greatest of their pilots. Those skills had seen him become the best allied ace of the war, but they had not saved him in the final hours of that conflict and like so many men and women before him David Sinclair had fallen in battle. His death had been honourable, met with courage in an attempt to save lives. He sacrificed himself for others, the sort of fate he would not have been disappointed with, but it had not made his passing any easier for his family.

Jeffrey's mother Gemma had been unable to cope, sinking into a depression and form of mania which made her very difficult to live with. Witnessing her fall was heart wrenching, and it was with mixed relief that Jeffrey and his younger brother Malcolm had been taken in by Jesuits on Earth, there completing their education and learning how to live with the loss.

It wasn't an easy transition and Sinclair was finding himself constantly in trouble, pushing his boundaries and acting out like the quintessential troubled teen. The Jesuits were patient and understanding, they treated him like a grown up, showed him his actions had consequences and instilled over time a strong sense of responsibility. It might have been the most valuable thing he had ever learned.

Jeffrey joined Earth Force despite his Mother's pleas not to follow in his Father's footsteps and perhaps share his fate. He went through the academy, volunteering for the toughest of courses and committing himself to becoming the best pilot he could be. He knew he had the ability to be a first rate pilot and that Earth needed people like him in the service. He had a responsibility to use his talents in the best place for the good of others, and so by twenty two was a fully qualified fighter pilot with the most legendary test scores in Earth Force history.

He had risen quickly through the ranks, earning command of his own squadron after just one year of active duty. Sinclair resisted the temptation of asking for a transfer to the Ghost Riders, deciding to stay with his own unit instead of joining his father's old squadron. For a time he also worked as an instructor at the academy, and it was there that he first met the woman who was his most constant companion.

Catherine Sakai was not his type, from the first meeting he knew that. Sinclair had always known the sort of woman he was attracted to, the sort that complemented his sensibilities and shared his interests. Catherine was none of that, but she had a fiery spirit and fervour in life that was impossible to look away from. They hadn't made the best of starts, Catherine had been a cadet in the Academy and Sinclair had been given responsibility for showing her some of the more advanced tricks a pilot could use. She'd been cocky and clearly a highly skilled pilot to begin with, so Sinclair had pushed her to her limits and not gently, something she had been furious about.

That anger had turned into mutual respect, and then something more. As fellow officers there could be no formal relationship, but that didn't really stop them trying. Their romance had been on and off as they moved around the Galaxy, sometimes spending years apart. When they met they invariably clashed, rowed, fought and ultimately made up until the next time. They were complete opposites, and yet somehow just couldn't stay apart, no matter how hard they tried.

Even the Minbari had failed to separate them, and already they had rekindled their passions during the conflict, the possibility of death merely intensifying their brief moments together. They still served in different squadrons and usually in different theatres, but now with the concentration of units at Proxima Sinclair had learned Catherine had just arrived to aid the defence a day earlier. Once he was off duty he'd look her up.

Like Sinclair Catherine had found herself assigned to an interceptor squadron where her piloting skills and reflexes came to the fore. She was still a Lieutenant and still young, but was already a squadron Executive Officer thanks to her natural talent and an increasing scarcity of other senior officers. Sinclair was naturally concerned when she dropped him a line, telling him she was heading to the front or on a mission somewhere, but she always came back and had even accounted for several Minbari fighters, no small achievement.

"Don't you ever get bored reading that same book?"  
Sinclair's eyes flickered up. "Class never gets old."  
"You're right, I can watch that show 'Cheerleader Detectives' all day and never stop grinning."  
Sinclair grinned at his Squadron XO, the fair haired man returning the amused look.  
"Thank you for proving my point." Sinclair joked.  
Billy Mitchell shrugged. "Mainly it's the Cheerleaders that don't get boring. The Detective stuff I can take or leave."

Sinclair felt a genuine laugh, something that was a rare event these days. Mitchell had been a great friend since the academy, the sort of utterly dependable human being who would always be there to watch his back. He had often acted as the voice of reason, especially when Sinclair had been in two minds about whether or not to kindle romance with Catherine Sakai. His exact words were. "Are you crazy! Shut up and kiss her!" Which had left a permanent mark on the young officer.

Like Sinclair Mitchell could boast a long history of aviation in his family, indeed the ancestor he was named for had been hugely influential in the earliest days of military aircraft. It had given them a common ground to relate to, and it inspired a certain rivalry between the two. A rivalry Sinclair was comfortably winning.

Sinclair was simply the better pilot, arguably the best in Earth Alliance history outperforming even his own father. Mitchell held no resentment over this, warmly congratulating his friend on each success. It was a camaraderie hard to find outside true professionals, and Sinclair was lucky to serve in a squadron of legends.

"Cheerleader Detectives." Sinclair laughed. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but they're all over thirty."

"When they look like that, who cares?" Mitchell grinned. "You know the star said she adores fighter pilots."

"You've got more chance with the Centauri Emperor's wife."

Mitchell paused. "You know, that shaved head thing is a little hot. Doesn't he have three or four? Think he'd mind?"

"Go for it, like our situation could be any worse!"

"I'll remember you said that." Mitchell retorted. "Probably wouldn't work, I heard things about Centauri anatomy. And I mean crazy things. Really crazy."

Sinclair raised a curious eyebrow. "Why haven't I heard about this?"

"Mainly because you're really stuffy."

Sinclair balked. "I am not stuffy!"

Mitchell tilted his head. "We're all watching reruns of Beach Volley ball, and you're reading that book. Again."

"It's a rerun! I know who wins!"

"It's beach volley ball Jeff, who care's who wins?" Mitchell beamed. "Come on, take your mind off things." He gestured. "And I'll tell you the Centauri thing I swear you won't believe what those guys get up to."

The mystery of the Centauri would have to remain just that. Before Sinclair could stand the air split with sirens, screaming electronic wails accompanied by pulsing flash of red or yellow lights.

"Great." Mitchell sulked.

"Alpha Squadron!" Sinclair shot to his feet, full of urgency. "Scramble! Get spaceborne now!"

His people moved with all due haste, stumbling up and out of the ready room leaving their distractions behind them. Each man and woman was already in their flight suits, all they needed to do was grab their helmets and gloves on the way out and then sprint the short distance to the cobra bays. Sinclair sealed the small book in its container and slipped it into a pocket, encouraging him not to get shot down and lose such a valuable piece of history.

"Move along people, Scramble!" He shouted behind them. "Launch in three minutes! Show these station jockeys how a combat squadron handles things!"

He grabbed his own helmet from the rack and left the room, twisting the metal and glass bowl onto his neck clasps before repeating the process with each glove. Ground crew were already in the cobra bays removing refuelling lines from the row of Starfuries, the mean looking craft held firm in their launch racks.

Sinclair's fighter was at the front and he jogged down to it, running along the gantry above the still sealed airlocks and stepping into the cockpit. Two flight techs in protective suits helped him in and tightened his straps and belts, then quickly retreated as the pilot lowered his canopy and began to spin up the fighter.

As far as he was concerned the Starfury was a work of art, an object of remarkable simplicity which had grown beyond the sum of its parts. It had a personality, a simplistic and businesslike desire to get the job done. It wasn't as aristocratic as a Centauri fighter or as scrappy as a Narn one, it was a workman, something with a job to do and an attitude of simply getting on with it. No frills, no clean edges, just what was needed to do its job.

The Aurora Fury was an excellent craft and Sinclair had immense pride whenever he controlled one. Externally they were little different to the Nova Furies of the last war, possessing a slightly more swept wing shape with the wings themselves being slightly thinner, an improvement in materials allowing more strength but less mass than its predecessor. The real differences were internal, and there the Aurora really stood out compared to its cousins.

During the Dilgar war one single craft had come to symbolise the dominance of the Imperium, namely the Thorun Dartfighter. Certainly the Mass Drivers did more arm, and the mighty Dilgar warships were just as instrumental in the blitz as their fighters, but it was the Thoruns with their clever design and breathtakingly daring use that really showed what sort of people the League were dealing with. Dilgar pilots simply dominated their opposition, even the superb Cascan pilots could not beat the combined arms doctrines and clever tactics of the Dilgar.

Finally it came down to Earth Forces, and only then did the Thorun meet its match. The Nova Fury then became the new symbol of the war, lauded for its mastery of the Dilgar fighter squadrons. This was however as much a propaganda initiative as anything else, and while the Nova Furies were excellent dogfighters ton for ton the Thorun remained the more sophisticated of the two designs, and it was as much human tactics and Dilgar over eagerness for battle that killed the Imperial fighter Corps.

When the war ended Earth Force found itself in possession of scores of Thoruns and set about taking them apart. The Mitchell Hyundyne megacorp, the company that made Starfuries, resolved to build the ultimate warplane, combining the best of both worlds. They came up with the Aurora, and most people were unimpressed.

In this case though first impressions were proven false. While nothing revolutionary to look at the Aurora had a lot beneath the hood. Her uni pulse cannons could deliver a far heavier weight and rate of fire than a Nova Fury, her sensors were cutting edge, her controls far more responsive, and critically she used reverse engineered Dilgar engines and fuel cells. Throughout the war the Novas had always been short legged and sluggish compared to their opponents, with the Aurora that was no longer an issue.

The new fighters allowed Earth to keep its edge in the field, leaving the Narn with their new Frazi class craft fuming and prompting the Centauri to seek their own equivalent using the latest technology. The Starfuries had appeared to be the final word in fighter combat, and amazingly even then were being improved upon with Mitchell-Hyundyne working on an even more revolutionary craft, an atmospheric Fury.

The bubble surrounding Starfuries burst when the Minbari Nial fighters suddenly arrived on the scene with a vengeance. Initial combat losses were terrible, with the Nial's using the same stealth system as the capital ships they were extremely hard to engage at long range, while their speed made closing in for a dogfight almost impossible. Nial's attacked in swarms, their shockingly potent guns working in unison to saturate EA formations and wipe out whole squadrons before they even knew they were in danger. New tactics were quickly implemented, but losses remained high.

The only bright spot was that when a Fury did get lucky enough to close the range it still maintained an edge in agility and its guns were more than able to breach Minbari armour. Proportionally Minbari fighter losses were much higher than their warship losses, a respectable monument to the efficiency of the Starfury design despite the massive odds they faced.

The Minbari were disdainful of humanity and looked down on Earth Force, but even the most militant of their race had learned not to underestimate a well flown fighter, some had even come to respect the unusually designed craft. They knew that if a Fury got in close they were in big trouble, and Minbari fighter pilots quickly learned caution in battle, much more so than their brothers and sisters in the navy. Minbari pilots often viewed their battles as single combat, and in that respect shared a philosophy with some of the elite of the Dilgar fighter corps. Like those other pilots, they did not hesitate to shoot down Furies but did appreciate the courage of human pilots more than most of their race.

The only other Earth Spacecraft to elicit the same amount of respect was the Nova Dreadnought, which likewise was regarded with a serious sense of foreboding if it managed to get in close. It was the only opponent a Sharlin Captain was careful around, and those that weren't often paid for their arrogance. One group among the Star Riders were so in awe of the concept they commissioned their own copy, not for this war but for the next. It was hoped the Shadows would be just as surprised by this new Neshaten class as the Windswords had been when they first ran into a Nova broadside without preparation.

Respected or not the Starfuries still had an uphill struggle before them. While their odds of survival were far better than those of naval crew they still were not particularly healthy, and it was the approach to battle which usually proved the most dangerous and decisive moment of a pilots life.

Sinclair's systems all read green, the data uplinked to the station control. With a slight hiss the air outside the fighter disappeared, sucked into storage tanks for later use as the airlocks cycled.

"All fighters this is Alpha Leader, stay loose when we drop, be ready for anything."

Beneath him the airlock doors opened and with a jolt the launch rack dropped down, his squadron moving downwards with him. They were lowered into an outer airlock, the red lights showing the zone was already unpressurised and ready for use. Nose to tail the fighters paused briefly, the upper doors closing and the last lot of space doors finally cranking upon revealing darkness beyond.

"Alpha Squadron this is CiC." A voice fed through. "No hostiles in close contact, unknown forces still at long range."

"Roger that Control, thanks for the tip." Sinclair replied.

"Standby to drop." The voice returned. "In three, two, one, drop."

Sinclair braced as the launch rack twisted, sliding his fighter from its rails as the central spin of the station hurled him outwards. He was only just clear of the grey walls before his engines flared on, twisting the fighter away from the obvious target of the launch bays and eating up empty space as he assembled his unit into combat formation. His fighter like the others was colourfully marked, in his case with black and yellowy green stripes on the upper wings that stood out clearly in black space. It was in part a morale boost to customise their craft, and in part a vital part of recognising your leaders and being aware of who was where in the battle space. Each fighter also had a number on the hull reflecting their designation, all except Sinclair. As leader his fighter should carry the number One, but just to confuse any Minbari that might catch on to the concept his fighter was marked with a large 'Zero Two' on the upper wings. There was no craft marked 'Zero One' and he secretly hoped some Minbari ace had wasted his time trying to find one in the heat of battle.

"Alpha Squadron, standby to engage." He said. "Let's see what command has for us."

Not far behind them General Denisov walked through the doors of Proxima Prime Station and onto the CiC, focused but pleased to see his officers rapidly analysing the situation and ready to give him a report the instant he arrived.

"General Smits, what happened?"

"Unknown jump signals sir." The shorter officer said, already pouring over data feeding through the computers.

"Anything scheduled?"

"Not for another four hours." Smits informed. "And all the beacons are inactive."

Denisov nodded. "So they navigated here the hard way." That could mean only one thing. "Minbari."

"We estimate two ships, we guess they're still there right now, we haven't picked up any outgoing vortexes."

"Get some units out there to check it out." Denisov said.

Smits turned quickly to his aide. "Give Callaghan the go order, take his cruisers in and hit them hard. If it's two scouts we can take them."

"Aye sir."

"And make sure they've got plenty of fighter cover."

The orders swiftly went out and the ready warships began to move, a squadron of six cruisers and a heavy escort of twenty Corvettes and Frigates. Most EA fleets tended to be balanced in a similar way with two or three times the number of escorts as capital ships simply because escorts could be built faster and therefore in larger numbers. At the start of the war it was rare to see anything smaller than a Hyperion deployed for frontline battles, Earth Force doctrine emphasising massive concentrated power which only heavy ships could deploy. Soon after the loss of the Third Fleet Denisov had pioneered a new strategy base don avoiding direct battle unless absolutely necessary, and even then fighting in loose fluid formations.

Unfortunately EA formations were still vulnerable to even a trace of Minbari heavy ships, and even a pair of scout cruisers required a significant deployment to engage. The ships Smits was deploying would have matched a Dilgar Dreadnought Pentacan, but in this war were only suited for hunting down enemy screening forces.

The assortment of warships passed by Sinclair, their lumbering engines working at full burn to push them into action. Against a normal enemy the Frigates would already be training railguns while the cruisers made ranging shots with their laser cannons, but against Minbari they conserved their strength and waited until they could trust their visual sensors to lay their guns by.

Nothing had frustrated Earth as much as Minbari jammers, devices that resolutely refused to give up their secrets. They did not cloak the Minbari ship, they were still plainly there on the battlefield and human forces could narrow down their locations enough to engage, but could not achieve a lock. Every time a ship tried its sensors just refused to focus, finding themselves scattered, deflected, overwhelmed or simply redundant.

Nothing had worked, from the most expensive and advanced sensor arrays humans possessed right down to ancient radar. Sensor technology had leapt forward both in terms of power and accuracy, and there had been a notably improvement in the ability of EA ships to zero in on the Minbari, but it simply wasn't enough. The best technique the EA had was to use telescopes, simple optical telescopes fitted with cameras lined up with the gun directors. EA targeting had stepped back three hundred years in one fell swoop, but it was literally the best they could do.

Unfortunately at long range visual tracking left much to be desired, especially as pulse cannon rounds took an infuriatingly long time to reach the target, long enough for a sharp evasive turn from the Minbari ship to turn the salvo into a miss. Only the laser cannons really benefited, and did often strike Minbari ships, unfortunately the Minbari crystalline armour proved incredibly resilient to the heat based energies of the laser cannons rendering them woefully ineffective.

By comparison the Minbari had no such concerns, though Earth Force had managed to perfect blanket jamming to a point where at long ranges even the Minbari had a hard time getting a clean lock. Sadly even when forced into medium and close ranges Minbari ships still dominated battle, their neutron weapons cleaving EA ships into pieces without much difficulty. They still had much to fear from a Nova ambush or a suicide attack, but generally speaking the Minbari were winning the war by leagues.

The only time an EA ship could lock onto a Minbari vessel was the instant before it fired, when the jammers could not mask the open gunports and fully primed weapons. By then of course it was invariably too late.

Despite this knowledge the warships poured on the power and prepared to intercept, expecting to face two light vessels but ready to face down a fleet of Sharlins if that was required. Survival was not much of an option in that sort of scenario, but even damaging one of the deadly blue vessels helped the human war effort, and was worth the sacrifice.

"Orders coming through." Sinclair noted to his squadron, flashing text informing him to take escort stations around the ships. "We're going in, take position on me, pair off and stay loose."

The Aurora Furies quickly joined him, their formation looking sloppy to the untried eye but in fact perfectly planned to keep the unit in position to cover each other but not get wiped out in the first seconds of a battle. Each of his pilots had at least three Minbari kills, a significant achievement in this war, with a handful having over ten. Becoming an ace against the Minbari was almost impossible, few survived the experience and even fewer lasted long afterwards. Sinclair had twenty kills, an unbelievable figure which even veteran pilots were surprised to learn.

Sinclair's squadron was the best in Earth Force, though he had strong competition from the equally famous Ghost Riders which had been the top scorers of the last war, and of course his Father's command. The Ghost's currently answered to Captain April Green, David Sinclair's former XO and current wife of Captain William Hague. April had been an excellent pilot though after promotion found herself commanding a warship. That vessel had been crippled in a minor skirmish and she had barely escaped with her life, hiding out on a mining station for three months until engineering a daring escape. While she was able enough commanding a ship, she requested a posting to the Starfury wings which was eventually granted.

That Squadron was currently attached to both the Lexington and Endymion providing air cover for the Marauders, and while Alpha squadron, or 'The Reapers' as they liked to be known after their unit crest which showed a hooded Death complete with skeletal features and scythe against the starry back ground, had seen plenty of deep range missions they were more at home in a pitched battle.

"All units be advised, possible fighter contacts on approach." The station warned, its utterly vast sensor arrays able to pick out targets more effectively than those of a Fury.

"You heard the man." Sinclair informed. "Heat 'em up!"

From his vantage point Sinclair could see twinkles of light, reflections from canopies or the crystal shells of the enemy craft as they orientated towards them. His sensors confirmed a fuzzy electronic mass up ahead telling him there was indeed something there, but giving him nothing on their strength or numbers. Like his ancestors he was going to be relying on his own two eyes for target identification and tracking.

The lights in the distance changed suddenly in both colour and intensity. The Minbari neutron beams were scarily fast moving but did not travel at light speed, meaning an alert pilot could spot the muzzle flashes a few short moments before the beams reached him. Sinclair lost no time in reacting, throwing his fighter into a rapid sideways tumble out of the line of fire.

"Break, break,break!" He yelled at his unit, and they too threw themselves into evasive roles and dodges just seconds before the carpet of green beams cut through the area the Reapers had previously been occupying.

"Sweep round, circle and engage!"

The Starfuries roared away in pairs adopting a circular formation spreading out like ripples in water before arcing back, turning inwards and accelerating back towards a central point. The Minbari squadron found itself at the centre of that circle with fast moving human craft coming in from all sides presenting them with a rapid choice. Either they could cut their engines, rotate outwards, and fire on the humans while holding formation or they could break into small groups and try and take on the humans before they closed. If they took the first option they would be sitting targets while if they took the second they would sacrifice the security of numbers and find themselves forced into a dogfight with the nimble grey craft. Sinclair was happy to exploit either alternative. If he had been Minbari he'd have ignored the circling humans and driven on past them, accelerating out of danger and focusing on the warships but not these ones. They had challenged Sinclair's squadron to battle and now broke up, split formation and advanced in pairs towards the Starfuries.

Sinclair just about managed to smile as he cut afterburners and flipped open the covers on his gun triggers.

His main sensors still refused to give him more than a vague indication that two enemy craft were incoming, fortunately though his fighter like most others had been refitted with optical gunsights that projected a magnified image of the enemy fighters rapidly advancing on his position. It was enough to engage with, but Sinclair was much happier getting into close visual range.

A couple of rounds flew past as Mitchell engaged, his trusted wingman trying for a long range kill with his pulse cannons flaring blue in the night. Understandably the Minbari evaded, sliding away from the pulses exactly as Sinclair had predicted right down to the angle, speed and distance of the evasion. It was an instinct that dwelt in his blood, the instinct of a hunter of the skies. Sinclair knew how the Minbari pilots thought, he had observed their tactics and strategies, their formations and deployments. He had learned the Minbari fighter pilot training regime simply by watching them in action and studying every movement they made in exacting detail. Their training was formulaic and left little room for creativity, something Sinclair found efficient but entirely predictable. Once he knew the basics he could guess how a Minbari pilot would react to any given situation, and he would then be ready to pounce.

Sinclair adjusted his position ever so slightly lining up his guns on the speeding blue shard of crystal, gauging the distance by eye and working out how far his opponent would shift after Mitchell's next salvo. Once again his wingman opened fire and once again the two enemy fighters dodged, only this time they weaved their way directly into Sinclair's waiting gunsights.

The twin pulse cannons shook releasing a stream of energised particles at the Minbari fighter. In the past Sinclair had prided himself on being able to bring down an enemy with just one shot but the Minbari had taught him that it was best to make sure and not trust purely to skill. As it was his first shot did do the trick, passing clean through the front of the blue craft in a shattering of crystal and flowering of orange flame. The second Minbari fighter engaged in an attempt to avenge its fellow, the green lances stabbing at Sinclair as he rolled hard and flickered over the cooling embers of his kill. The Minbari fighter turned too give chase, cutting its velocity to make the turn safely and in so doing giving Mitchell a perfect shot. The Minbari understood how to work as a team but they simply hadn't mastered the flexibility Earth Force displayed with its wingman system. While the humans constantly shifted between attack or defence the Minbari were always one or the other, always leader or always wingman. It meant that when one Minbari fighter was gunned down the other one did not instantly break and try to partner up with another unit but instead continued to fulfil its role in relation to its now deceased wing mate. Against a squadron as well trained as the Reapers it was a death sentence.

Mitchell swept in beside the Minbari fighter within fifty yards, cutting his thrusters and pivoting to aim his twin cannons at the target while it was at its most vulnerable. Deflection firing was hard enough with a sensor lock, trying to hit a target as you shot past by eye alone was an incredibly difficult skill to master. Fortunately Mitchell was able to justify his place as Sinclair's chosen wingman.

"Scratch one Bluebell!" He chortled.

"Nice work, reform." Sinclair replied professionally. "Back up Gina and Max, go!"

The two Furies darted into action again, falling through void to help out another embattled pair of craft. Ahead of them the EA warships were engaging the fast blurs of Minbari fighters with vigour but little success, pulse cannons and interceptors tracing blue and white patterns in the sky around the taskforce.

Sinclair's pilots were performing well, with the numbers even they were using their tricks and training to draw the Minbari into a dogfight they couldn't win. However other units around them were not so smart and were trying to take the Minbari head on, a series of fireballs underlining the futility of seeking an equal duel with a Nial.

"Alpha ten, break right!" Sinclair commanded briskly. "Go right Gina, I've got him!"

The fighter in question turned away as Sinclair raced towards it, drawing one of the Nial fighters to follow it in a spiralling dive towards the EA fleet. Sinclair dropped in, pushing his engines to reach effective range before loosing a blast of pulses downrange towards the Minbari craft. The enemy dodged, but stayed focused on Gina despite the newly arrived threat on its tail. Sinclair was aware that the Minbari pilot was waiting for his wingman to handle the problem, and luckily for him Mitchell was hard at work making sure it didn't happen.

Gina swung another right turn, and once again the Minbari fighter gave chase just as Sinclair had hoped it would. The Fury shuddered again as its guns spoke their message snatching aside the Minbari fighter in sudden heat and light.

"Alpha Leader, check six!" Mitchell barked and without waiting Sinclair took evasive action. Green energy beams illuminated his cockpit as they passed disturbingly close by, forcing the Commander to throw some violently random manoeuvres to keep the Minbari craft off balance.

"Mitchell!"

"I'm on it, Gina, on me!"

The two nearby Furies quickly linked up, Mitchell and Gina dropping in behind the careening duel and saturating the area with pulse cannon fire. It wasn't neat or pretty but the deluge of fire winged the Nial, blasting off a drive vane and sending it spinning into space. Infuriatingly its jammer prevented a finishing hit finally killing it off.

"Let him suffocate!" Sinclair snarled. "Follow me!"

There was a massive volume of pulse fire ahead, yet while the blue lights outnumbered the green ones it was almost always the green blasts that ended in a flash of yellow. Sinclair's computer showed him with unfeelingly that one of the rookie squadrons was already gone and another one was down to just two survivors. The enemy force hadn't been more than two Minbari squadrons to begin with and it looked like they'd already killed more enemy planes than they could lose. It angered Sinclair, but he kept it in check. Like so much else this battle was not fair, but that merely made it more rewarding to earn a kill with such odds against him.

"Bastards!" Gina snapped over the intercom. "We lost Max! Alpha Nine!"

"Stay close, put it out of your head!" Sinclair ordered. "We're getting in close to the warships, stay awake over there! It'd be embarrassing to fly into one of our own cruisers."

He dodged past the shattered hull of a rookie Fury and looped hard over the upper hull of an Olympus Corvette, its batteries chugging fire at the Minbari. The Olympus had proven itself a rather useful escort especially as its railguns could fire flak bursts. The area of effect weapons were far less dependant on accuracy unlike interceptors and had given the Minbari fighter squadrons a rude surprise, one of the few of the war. This particular vessel had notched up two more kills for its tally though with the range now reduced to point blank it was unlikely to score more.

Sinclair worked the controls, pushing against G-Force and rotating his ankles to work the foot pedals. The responsive craft sang past the Corvette, control thrusters and magnetic vanes steering and flexing, the metal on the wings rippling like elastic under the stresses of the turn. He glimpsed a Minbari fighter flash past and turned on it, snapping a few rounds after it but missing. He accelerated sharply after it, noting the streams of blue from Mitchell and Gina sailing past frequently as they tried for a shot.

This Minbari pilot was a little better than the rest, his evasive turns seemed more random and much sharper, far more human. Sinclair had seen one or two like this and he had guessed they were veterans. Most Minbari pilots only ever flew by the book, and as a rule never needed to do anything else. They scored easy victories and there was never any impetus to change, never any challenge they had to adapt to. But sometimes a Minbari pilot went up against a human ace like Sinclair or April and that forced them to ditch the rulebook and learn to fly naturally. Not a lot survived an encounter like that and those that did became very dangerous, a perfect blend of veteran creatively minded pilot and advanced technology. People like that killed entire squadrons single handed, he had to die.

Sinclair pushed his engines but the Minbari pilot was already pulling away thanks to his far better acceleration. The sky was alive with pulse cannons as a neighbouring Hyperion let loose with its main armament, massive bolts of blue joining the quest to kill this skilled opponent. The weight of fire had increased in the few seconds it had taken to pass through the taskforce, Sinclair hazarded a guess that five Furies were on this one fighter and the Minbari pilot seemed utterly unfazed, leading them a merry chase through their own formations.

"Come on Boney." Sinclair muttered. "One mistake, just one."

The Minbari fighter snapped around again, leading the flying circus behind it back the way they had come in a hail of fire. It skipped over the hull of a cruiser with mere feet to spare, rolling literally beneath the warships gun barrels and forcing most of the Furies to change course in order to avoid a collision. But not Sinclair, and the striped Fury matched his daredevil moves like for like, not giving in and not faltering. It wasn't working, for though Sinclair was still on his tail the Minbari craft was simply too fast and was already beyond effective range of his guns. Once upon a time it wouldn't have been, but with most successful engagements taking place at less than a thousand yards the chances of hitting the Minbari fighter were getting slimmer with each heartbeat.

Until it exploded, with no warning at all it ceased to exist and by the time Sinclair registered that the chase was over his fighter was already skimming past the fireball. He exhaled and checked over his shoulder craning his neck to find the pilot who had taken his kill. He wasn't really surprised.

"Hi Jeff, miss me?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Catherine, nice entrance."

"It just looked painful seeing you chasing that guy, you sure you're up for this fighter pilot game? Gotta be pretty awake you know."

"Don't suppose we can share that kill can we?" He chuckled. "I did do most of the leg work."

"Let me think… ah, no." Catherine Sakai answered. "And he was the last one."

Sinclair shrugged at the comment, watching the other pilot move closer. "I'm not complaining."

Catherine's fighter angled upwards slightly displaying its own gaudy wing art, in this case a deep red rising sun emitting a dozen thick sunbeams over a blue sea. It reflected her Eastern heritage and suited her unit, the appropriately named 'Rising Suns' squadron.

"So because I saved you from looking like a puffing old man, I think you owe me a drink."

The Twenty Nine year old grinned at the idea of being called old, a joke she loved teasing him about. As she liked to say he had the body of a young pilot and the attitude of a middle aged Victorian Duke.

"Sounds like a fair deal, I'll see you on station prime." He looked around with a grunt. "Looks like we're done here. All fighters, return to base."

General Denisov brushed a hand over his deeply lined brow, grimacing in resignation at the situation that had passed before him.

"Enemy scout ships are gone sir, our ships weren't fast enough to intercept them." The station sensor officer offered as report.

"And those two squadrons of fighters kept our Furies from pressing in to try and disable them." General Smits added.

"Could have gone better." Denisov said flatly. "Hell, that's the epitaph of this whole war. Could have gone better."

"We've activated the comms screen." Smits said. "As far as we know even Minbari ships can't send signals until they move out of range, gives us a few hours at least."

"Get some fighters through the gate, lets try and prevent them getting that far."

"Sir, in normal space Minbari ships are tough enough to track at range, but trying to hunt them down in hyperspace…" Smits tailed off.

"I know, but do it anyway. Better than just letting them go." Denisov ordered. "Gives the illusion that we can still make a difference."

Smits nodded and the station officer set about delivering the orders. The smaller General saw him set to work, then stepped closer to Denisov and lowered his voice.

"Five or six hours for them to clear the jammers, three days travel time for the Minbari fleet to reach us, maybe a day for them to organise. Doesn't leave us much time."

"Not much time at all." Denisov agreed solemnly. "Get as many people to Earth as you can. Load them on half built warships if you have to, if it can move I want it full of refugees and through the gate in four days or less."

"And our combat ships?" Smits asked.

"They have to stay." Denisov said. "Under my personal command."

"Understood sir."

The taller General sighed slightly and looked up from the console, staring out through the CiC window into space beyond. "Everything is in place on the surface, we'll be ready in time. I just hope it's enough."

"We'll do all we can on the ground." Smits confirmed. "What about in orbit?"

"We're still going to have civilians up here." Denisov said. "We hold them as long as we can, buy time to get one more ship through the gate."

Smits nodded slowly, well aware of what that likely meant in regards to their chances of survival.

"Four days then."

Denisov nodded, only too aware of what those words now encapsulated. This was their last real chance for victory, and many of his people would not survive to know whether or not they would succeed.

"Four days."


	6. Chapter 6

6

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June 22nd, 2247

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Proxima III

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With a slight hiss of metal scraping on metal the polished gun barrel slid into the body of the rifle, the usually silver tube painted a dull assortment of browns to better suit the craggy and inhospitable terrain Proxima offered. The barrel twisted, locking into place with a satisfying click as the magnetic seals activated and held the weapon together. Considering the device had to handle bursts of plasma streaming down its chamber he hoped most sincerely that the seals were as tight and secure as advertised. Allegedly the magnets were strong enough to lift a tank, a statement that he treated with a very healthy amount of scepticism.

Life had taught Dermot Hannigan to be careful, to watch his back and to take every statement, affirmation and unshakeable truth with a large pinch of salt. All too often something prized as unbreakable broke, or something unconquerable fell, or something impossible happened. This war had shown him nothing was safe or certain and that even his own beliefs needed to be constantly checked, weighed and challenged. Complacency got you killed.

He replaced the heat cover over the rifles vitals and began to fold up his cleaning kit, giving the weapon a final check over first to ensure it was spotless. He had to admit the PPG rifles Earth Force had standardised with were at least very easy to maintain. They had virtually no moving parts and were made out of Morbidium alloy, an almost indestructible material that couldn't chip, bend, twist or break. He'd seen a pistol run over by a tank and still function perfectly adequately afterwards, a very handy advertisement for the manufacturer. Unfortunately the material was remarkably heavy for its size which made using it as body armour impossible, something which most infantry despaired of.

The rifle itself however only had a fairly small amount of pure Morbidium in it lining the firing chamber which kept the weight down to a manageable level, though the relatively small weapon still weighed as much as the previous generation of larger more complicated slug throwers. Slight as they appeared the weapons were still very useful in a melee and Dom had seen first hand how strong they were even against Minbari skulls.

Beside its strength and ease of maintenance the other grand advantage of the PPG was ammunition. The weapon was fed from an interchangeable fusion battery, a small energy cap a couple of inches long that contained enough energy for dozens of rounds. It allowed each soldier to carry thousands of rounds of ammunition with ease, something impossible with the old assault rifles. In a war such as this one where soldiers could be cut off from supplies for months conceivably this quantity of ready to use ammunition was a tremendous advantage and the primary reason why Earth had adopted energy weapons across the board, both on land and in space.

The only downside was that the rifles didn't deliver the same physical impact as a 6mm bullet travelling at twice the speed of sound and was less effective against body armour. Instead infantry had to spray a target with plasma and trust quantity of fire over quality, a tactic which did seem to work most of the time. Another linked problem was that the bright red plasma rounds made it easy to spot where the EA troops were firing from, and to direct fire on them.

As such some specialists still used slug throwers, especially snipers and infiltrators. Silenced machine guns and invisible snipers had both been a massive shock to the Minbari, the uniquely human concepts inflicting damage far beyond their actually means. Even the mere hint of a nearby sniper reduced most Minbari platoons to crawling across the ground, cursing vehemently every inch of the way.

"Good as new." He approved, laying the weapon on the matt he had been using for a bed these past few weeks. "Weapon inspection in five minutes!" He called out. "If I find dirt on anything I will P-T you so hard your grand kids will be born exhausted!"

"Yes Sarge." A dejected chorus of voices resounded.

It was not a huge surprise Dom Hannigan had made Sergeant. He had decided early on the army was going to be his life, despite a brief flirtation with the idea of joining fighter command, and had dedicated himself to the task. Despite being a fairly new recruit his performance in the Dilgar war ensured he wasn't one of the men de-mobbed after the conflict as Earth Force cut down its troop numbers to something more sustainable in peace time. Unsurprisingly the army bore the lion's share of cuts, reduced heavily to free up cash for the navy. If promotion and progress in the navy was slow, in the army it was virtually non existent. Even so Dom had managed to make Sergeant by thirty, aided by several small scale actions that kept the army busy during Earth's golden age of prosperity and expansion.

Like most of humanity he hadn't expected another major war, not after what happened to the Dilgar. He had imagined that would have been warning enough to the galaxy that humanity was not to be trifled with. Sadly the Minbari hadn't received that message, and after the first engagements it became apparent that such a warning didn't really apply to them.

The 99th Airborne Regiment had been sent to new Canton Colony early in the war, a lush tropical world favoured by holiday makers and romantics for its glorious beaches and hotels. By the time they arrived the Minbari had already blasted the paradise into a patchwork of petrified forests and craters and the hotels were swarming with alien soldiers. After a hair raising assault the unit landed and fought for three months solid, taking a measure of the strength, skill and dedication of the Minbari and finding them a grim opponent to face. As far as Dom was concerned the old Dilgar Imperial Guards were still the toughest enemy he'd ever faced in battle, but the Minbari were lethal in close combat and completely unshakeable.

They were evacuated from New Canton when it became clear the situation was untenable, escaping just hours before the Minbari thoroughly blockaded the world and trapped the remainder of Earth Forces on the ground. The Regiment had learned a lot in the long fight through the jungles, swamps and mountains of the Colony, they knew how to defeat the Minbari in a stand up fight and had done so often, but they also knew that their enemies were not mindless fanatics. Some of them were soldiers every bit as deadly and disciplined as elite human formations.

Unfortunately the fighting had also cost the regiment half its effective strength which meant when they returned home they had to soak up replacements. They were lucky in being able to absorb veteran soldier from units that had been wiped out elsewhere keeping the 99th as a mostly veteran unit, but at least a quarter of the soldiers hadn't seen action and were going to get a major shock.

"Alright Red Platoon, get up, form up, by the numbers." Dom ordered. "Present rifles for inspection."

The twenty men and women lined up in the artificial light, powered lanterns hanging from the rock above them. Since they arrived the Regiment had been living underground in caverns, mine shafts and tunnels to keep them off the Minbari radar. For a lot of the older soldiers it harkened back to the climactic battle of Balos, an engagement where the EA forces had been forced to shelter underground for a month while naval forces duelled high above for the system. Fifteen years ago the Dilgar had planned to spring a trap at Balos and halt the inexorable Earth Force advance on their homeworld, now humanity was planning to do the exact same thing. Like the Dilgar before them this was their last chance to keep the enemy clear of their homeworld and everything rested on the element of surprise followed by a little ingenuity and a lot of pure courage.

Dom walked down the line checking each weapon in turn, scowling at the owner and checking their battledress. Generally speaking everything was in order, though little escaped his scrutiny.

"Private Crockett, what is this?" Dom pointed to a scrawl on his rifle.

"Sir, that's my girlfriend's name Sir."

"You wrote it on your weapon Private?"

"Sir yes sir."

"You're nuts." He gave the gun back. "But serviceable."

He moved onto the next young man, again flipping the rifle over and checking it out. The soldier stood perfectly still, waiting patiently for the result.

"Very good Private Garibaldi." Dom returned the weapon.

"Thank you sir." He answered with a sideways grin that perfectly recalled an expression his father used. Alfredo Garibaldi had been Dom's mentor and had saved his life more than once. The old Sergeant Major was a Regimental legend, Sergeant Crowbar of Red Platoon and even fifteen years later Alpha Company still bore his symbol, an enraged Daffy Duck in a steel helmet, rifle in one hand and crowbar in the other.

Michael Garibaldi was not his father. He had much the same attitude, a very similar outlook and a quick mind, but it was tempered with some caution and reserve from his mother's side of the family. He was great at his job, but there was a hint of the subversive about him, a distrust for authority that would hurt his chances of a glowing military career. He was a good enough soldier, but he wasn't an excellent soldier like his father had been and if Dom was honest he didn't think the younger Garibaldi belonged in the army. Unfortunately the impending invasion hadn't given anyone much choice and Michael had accepted the situation, which made Dom's job a lot easier.

"Sergeant Hannigan?"

Dom stood to at the call, turning to acknowledge the platoon commander, Lieutenant Tucker. Another former member of Alfredo's squad Tucker had risen through the ranks to become an officer. It made him slightly older than most Lieutenants and put off some of the other officers, but the wealth of first hand knowledge Tucker brought with him made him an invaluable asset.

"Sir."

"We got a briefing Dom, file in to the HQ zone."

"Yes sir." He turned back to the troops. "Red Platoon, fall out and report to briefing! Lively!"

The group quickly split up, heading towards the side of the cavern given over to the company commander. They arrived to find several rows of simple chairs waiting for them along with most of Blue and White platoon representing the bulk of Alpha Company. Dom made sure his people took their places before joining them himself, glancing over the large video screen stood on a tripod in front of the eighty or so personnel.

"Company, stand to!" Came the familiar bark of Master Sergeant Malone, the senior NCO in Alpha Company and again one of Alfredo Garibaldi's veteran followers. The Company rose to its feet on the order, a response to the arrival of Captain Emma Fox who gave them a nod of acknowledgement.

"Be seated."

There was a cacophony of scrapes and groans as eighty people sank into the metal chairs and settled themselves for the briefing. There had been a lot of idle talk and rumours about what was in store for them and it was with anticipation that the Company gave the Captain their attention.

Physically Emma Fox had changed little. She was still small, still wore short blond hair and still possessed two large blue eyes. What had changed was the look that was in those eyes, the confidence she radiated, the poise she stood with and the certainty in her voice. She had gone from a smart but untested junior Lieutenant in the Dilgar war to a fully qualified senior Captain in this one, a highly respected veteran officer which was always a rare commodity in front line units. Earth Force invested massively in junior officers, it was said World War Three was won by Lieutenants acting independently when cut off from command, and as the EA developed it learned those lessons well. A Captain or Lieutenant in Earth Force had the same tactical and strategic knowledge as Regimental or Brigade commanders in alien forces, and nowhere was this more obvious then with the Minbari. EA officers had responsibility and flexibility completely beyond their Minbari equivalents and exploited that knowledge ruthlessly. Sadly casualties among officers tended to be abnormally high especially in conscript units where they often tried to lead by example, usually with fatal consequences.

"Alpha Company, we have just received word Minbari forces are two days out." Captain Fox began with the information that was the most anticipated and dreaded. "We will be in action before the end of this week."

A wave of gasps, sighs and mutters swept the unit revealing a mix of emotions.

"We will be taking part in Operation Storm Shadow." She continued. "A major combined arms attack that will destroy the best of the Minbari army and reduce enemy supplies through attrition."

She brought the screen on line.

"Our objective is to hold Proxima and force the Minbari to fight here, to assault their pride and give them such a stinging defeat that they commit fully to seizing this world. They will expend resources here that otherwise would be directed at Earth. That is our overall objective, to bleed them dry and give Earth a greater chance of countering any future offensives."

She called up a map of their assigned continent.

"This is our area of responsibility as part of IX Corps, First EA Army." Fox highlighted certain points of interest. "We're currently deployed here, beneath the Zvinki mountains and we expect the Minbari to make initial landings here, here and here." She lit up each location. "Large defensible plains that suit their mobile forces. Based on past experience it is unlikely the Minbari will be there long and will launch their own assault a few hours after landing. That's fine by us."

A few coloured blobs appeared on the map.

"Third Army is already deployed in heavy defensive positions outside the landing zones to resist the attack. Third Army is newly raised and made up of mainly conscripts untried in battle, we estimate they will hold for a day or two under full attack before breaking. First and Second army will wait in reserve until that moment, until the Minbari begin to pursue, then we hit them when they are over extended and vulnerable."

She returned her gaze to the group. "You probably noticed all those VTOL's parked in the next cavern along and you probably prayed they were nothing to do with us. Sorry to disappoint you people, but we will be launching an airborne offensive to cut off the Minbari line of retreat."

She smiled at the groans.

"Yeah I know, flying through a battlefield in the face of aerial superiority is suicide. Fortunately we've taken measures to ensure the Minbari will be unable to call down fighter or warship support."

She reached into her pocket and retrieved a small green cylinder some three inches long and a half inch thick.

"This is our key to success, something the tech folks have been working on since before the war. Personal jammers."

She gave the device a quick turn over, showing it to the assembled troops.

"Nothing more than a modified homing beacon and a battery, but it will mask you from sensors by producing a blanket jamming field. Every individual will have one at all times, and you will keep it active at all times. The battery is good for eight months, and if we're still fighting by then I'll be frankly shocked. They work against all known sensors and have been tested on a small scale elsewhere. These will prevent you from being targeted from the air or from orbit, it will force the Minbari to rely on visual means to spot you, unless you rip your thermal suppressive uniforms."

Tucker raised his hand. "Captain, you said these devices were active?"

"That's right, they broadcast a blanket jamming field."

"With respect ma'am, what's to stop the Minbari just firing on the centre of the signal? It'd be like walking around with a 'shoot here' sign."

"Good question." Fox grinned. "Command has been seeding these devices, and larger ones beside, across the planet. When the Minbari land all the jammers will be activate, your own personal devices will merge into a carpet of ECM across the entire theatre of operations. Everything will be covered, you'll be indistinguishable from the terrain around you and crucially, from the Minbari ground forces themselves."

Her smile grew cold.

"And that is the key point. From orbit the Minbari will not be able to distinguish our troops from their own using sensors alone. If they engage randomly they risk inflicting friendly fire on their own people and according to our intel people there is no higher disgrace than to kill a soldier on your own side. Because of this utter fear of inflicting friendly casualties the Minbari ships won't fire blind, their fighters will have to acquire targets visually before engaging, and their artillery will only fire where directed by observers. Ladies and gentlemen, they'll be fighting on our terms."

There were a few chuckles and grins.

"The only way they can call in support is with forward observers, they can bring down artillery or warship fire, so our snipers will be busy dealing with them." Fox said. "Additionally several specialist teams are going to be hacking and scrambling Minbari ship to shore communications further complicating matters."

"So if this works," Tucker began. "The Minbari will have no orbital strikes?"

"That's right, we'll take away their favourite toy." Fox said jollily. "We can match them, they will have artillery, so do we. They have air support, so do we, and as you know once their fighters hit atmosphere we can track them through friction and turbulence, no more stealth. What we have in this battle is a level playing field, and half a million prime Earth Force soldiers ready to host a rematch."

There were a few cheers, the troops beginning to feel their spirits lift. In every battle of the war the Minbari had orbital supremacy which made it impossible to field full scale armies. Anything bigger than a tank platoon or infantry company was spotted from orbit and wiped out. But not this time.

"Okay people, settle down." Fox said. "We still have a major task ahead. The Minbari will be able to reinforce, we won't. What we have on the planet is what we have full stop. Keep your heads and remember who you are dealing with. The Minbari are our most dangerous enemies, they are stronger than us, they have better vehicles, they still have some of the most versatile and lethal weapons known to exist. Fortunately this time we're ready. Bugs."

The Sergeant moved two the front holding two tubes, one much bigger than the other. He handed the larger of the two to Fox.

"First up, the Hammer Mark Two anti tank missile. Fully autonomous after initial target selection fire and forget weapon. As you know Minbari tanks are fast, infuriatingly fast and agile in fact. Our old Hammers were too slow and too sluggish to hit all the time, these new ones have been upgraded." She patted the tube. "These babies are accurate and nimble enough to bring down a fighter, but have the warhead to punch through a tank. They cost a fortune but are worth it, they will deployed on a squad level."

She took the second tube.

"Second, the Splinter rocket launcher."

This device was much narrower, less than four inches across but nearly four feet in length.

"This is an unguided pure kinetic kill weapon. It's optimised for use against Minbari crystalline armour and I am told it will kill anything smaller than a tank head on, and should penetrate flank and rear armour on a Minbari heavy vehicle at a hundred metres. These are short range, you aim by looking down these iron sights. Yeah I know, like something from the dark ages."

She turned it around in her hands.

"Use them against light vehicles, save your Hammers for the big stuff. They will be issued in bunches of five to each trooper, they are light but don't get them snagged on vegetation. We've got mountains of these things so use them at will, command recommends salvo fire of three per target to ensure a kill."

She paused with a grin.

"By the way, if they seem familiar it's because they were copied from Dilgar anti tank missiles. They were useless against our tanks, but against Minbari armour they do the trick. In fact you might find yourself carrying an original Dilgar manufactured one we confiscated after the war. Enjoy your little piece of history."

She handed the weapons back and moved on with the briefing.

"Many of you here have already faced the Minbari, but many haven't. Even the old hands here might not know entirely the sort of forces were going up against, even if you've fought then on New Canton this will be a different type of warfare on a much larger scale. The EIA and military intelligence has put together details about the Minbari army, this is everything we know, it's on data crystal and I expect you all to study it." She smiled. "But if you don't, here's the highlights."

She altered the briefing screen to show a selection of blue and purple vehicles.

"First, you'll notice camouflage is not something the Minbari use. Bit strange considering their ships do all they can to avoid being seen and shot at but there you have it. Minbari ground forces have no jamming technology, they fight hard but simplistically. They will use cover, they will seize advantages, but as far as we know they do not set mines, tripwires or other ambush tools. Goes against their sense of honour."

She sifted the images.

"We have two main opponents, two different clans among the Warrior Caste. Star Riders and Windswords. Both use the same basic equipment with a few local variations, both are well trained and equally devoted to their cause. However like all Minbari these two clans specialise in a particular aspect of warfare at the expense of training to perform a variety of battlefield roles. They are inflexible, if they fight outside their element they will suffer, become lost and misguided. Once they lose the initiative it will be virtually impossible for them to regain it."

She smiled.

"Even better is the fact these two clans rarely combine forces and work together on a tactical level, which makes pushing them beyond their field of expertise that much easier."

"First up." She brought up more images. "Windswords. These guys are assault specialists, line breakers. They operate the majority of enemy armoured units and usually form the spearhead of any attack. If they were human they'd be a heavy armoured division."

She flicked through pictures of Minbari tanks, some artist impressions, a few videos of them in action.

"Minbari tanks are faster than ours and more agile thanks to their gravitic propulsion. We've clocked them outrunning our recon cars so believe me when I say these guys are fast, quite capable of punching through a line and breaking out before we can move in reinforcements. They are nimble and graceful, they out range us and their main gun is a type of highly accurate disruptor pulse weapon. They also mount a twin linked fusion blaster turret for anti infantry work, far superior to our own heavy PPG's."

She showed a few more images, close ups of wrecked Minbari tanks.

"But they are not invincible. A missile hit will kill them, gunships will kill them, and our own tanks will kill them. Our Thor tanks are slower, but they are also tougher, that composite armour has actually proven surprisingly effective against Minbari weapons while the 135mm cannons they mount go through enemy tanks like a brick through glass."

She showed a few more images of EA victories.

"Our problem is engaging in favourable terrain to nullify the range and speed advantages of Minbari vehicles. Fortunately the broken rocky nature of Proxima fits the bill. We can engage Minbari armour in close confines at point blank range without air support. We've got a good chance."

She changed the image, suddenly revealing a mountainous slab of blue armour.

"Unless you face one of these, a Windsword assault tank. If you run into one, report it at once and run away. Fast."

The report only had a few images of these monster vehicles, massive hovering machines with highly angled sides and a giant cannon.

"These things are something altogether more nasty, they're tough enough to shrug off even point blank tank rounds." Fox informed them grimly. "They're used like mobile bunkers, they're slow and their gun has limited traverse. However they will blast clean through any vehicle or defence we have. They also mount a powerful secondary armament, anti aircraft weapons and missile launchers. They are bad news."

She brought up a schematic of a new device, this time clearly human.

"On a more positive note, this is our answer. You are looking at the only revolution in armoured warfare this century. Our first ground based railgun."

She ran through a few more images, the final one showed the cannon fitted to a Thor tank, the hugely long gun protruding from the turret.

"These thinks are brand new and still experimental. We've had rail guns for a long time on starships but have never been able to shrink down the power plants necessary to operate them into something that fits on a tank. We've codenamed these tanks 'Fireflies' and there are a few dozen on the planet ready to take on any Minbari super tanks that show up. As a bonus they should also go clean through Minbari troop ships and landing craft too in case they try to get creative and move heavy forces behind our lines."

Dom liked the sound of that.

"While Windswords specialise in armour they also deploy infantry and artillery to keep their tanks in one piece. Minbari artillery guns fire shells packed with a quantity of antimatter, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. The good news is there isn't much shrapnel, bad news is overpressure, heat and gamma radiation are extreme. Keep your uniforms sealed, it should help keep the radiation out, but against the other effects you better just pray."

Once more she showed several images of the weapons.

"A battery of these firing full yield rounds are more destructive than a nuke strike, and even at low yields they make our artillery look like pop guns. It is highly probable our job will be to hit artillery sites to protect the main counter attack by EA armoured forces."

She grimaced at the idea, then moved on.

"Windsword infantry are average. Strong, unbeatable in hand to hand, die just as fast as anyone else to plasma rounds and bullets. Keep them at range, use your surroundings, lure them into traps. They are impetuous and will chase you into places that even Wile E Coyote would see as a blatantly obvious ambush. Their tactics are poor, leadership is poor, and they aren't the sharpest tools in the box. But they are relentless, merciless and utterly dedicated once in battle. You can only stop them by killing them, so make sure that when they go down they stay down."

Dom had no problem with that, he'd seen Minbari kill wounded soldiers where they lay and after that he'd never shed any tears over finishing wounded Minbari. There hadn't been much mercy on offer to the Dilgar either, but here Dom had taken things much more personally.

"Our other opponents are the Star Riders." Fox drew his attention back. "These guys we've met before. Windswords favour direct attacks, armoured assaults directly into enemy lines. Star Riders prefer mobile warfare, flanking attacks and infantry assaults. They ignore heavy armour in preference for fast moving vehicles and light support. If they were human they'd be a cavalry unit."

She brought up a long thin vehicle on the screen.

"Basic Minbari troop transport. It'll carry a full platoon into action much faster than our own IFV's, infact these things are closer to VTOL gunships in terms of speed. This gives them mobility very similar to an airborne division, but with the hitting power of a mechanised unit. These people are very dangerous, if they get behind our lines and then can wreak massive damage, enough to bring our assault to a complete halt. They don't have the firepower of the Windswords but they use what they do have much, much more effectively."

She rattled through a few more vehicles used by the Star Riders, all optimised for speed.

"If we can pin them and hit them with our own mechanised or armoured forces we expect to be able to overwhelm them." Fox said. "Our tanks and combat vehicles will shred their light armour, unfortunately though their crystalline armour is highly effective against energy weapons. PPG fire won't do jack to them so don't waste the rounds. Use a rocket, or call on some heavy support."

"Captain, what if we're deployed forward with no armour to back us up?"

"We'll have a few armed jeeps airlifted wherever we go." Fox said. "They'll mount additional rockets and a brace of .50cal machine guns. Turns out heavy bullets are highly effective counters to light Minbari armour, so you'll be seeing a lot of old Ma Deuces out there."

Dom shook his head, impressed that a weapon invented three hundred years ago was still so useful. Really he shouldn't be too surprised, most Minbari weapons were even older and still brutally useful.

"Unfortunately for us Star Riders infantry are better than their buddies in the Windswords. They are still rigid and unwilling to take the initiative in most cases but you will find some junior leaders who will try and take responsibility, who will try and act independently. Kill them first."

She shrugged.

"As a rule Minbari won't attack or change plans without orders, but once they do get orders they'll follow them to the letter until they win or they all die. You will get exceptions, smarter leaders, maybe a senior officer somewhere running the battle in person. Those are the guys who make life for us annoying, with so many troops expected on the ground you can expect more and more experienced enemies. If we kill them they're gone forever, and we deprive the enemy of a valuable asset."

She clicked through more pictures.

"These guys are fun, jump scouts. They use small gravitic packs to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Normally while they're up there they drop some grenades too, so watch your heads. Never forget Minbari infantry weapons are better than ours. I've seen some guys loot fusion rifles for their own use and while its fun to turn these things on their users, try to resist the urge. Our guns fire red bolts, their guns fire green ones, so any EA soldier who sees green fire automatically drops and engages without looking at who is actually holding the gun."

She glanced over the Company, making sure they took in her warning.

"Well those are the main units." She concluded. "There are reports of other Minbari forces that are deployed as shock troops but we have no confirmation. If this campaign is as critical as everyone seems to think we should expect the enemy to send in the best they've got, just like we're doing. No chances, no risks, assume nothing and if in doubt open fire. Boneheads or not these guys mean business, don't underestimate them."

She turned off the screen and relaxed a little, speaking more informally.

"The Minbari are team players, they complement each other totally. Massive direct force on one side, exceptional mobility and daring on the other. Together they are unstoppable, but divided we have a chance. We can split up these two different facets of the Minbari army, we can melt away before massive attacks or we can throw up a steel war in front of their flanking assaults. If we stay on our toes, keep one step ahead of them, we can do this."

From White Platoon Lieutenant Harlow raised her hand.

"Captain, can we expect fleet support on this one?"

Fox shook her head. "Unlikely, we expect the bulk of the Minbari Navy to be in this system, in fact its part of our objectives to try and detain them here. Trying to run a blockade like that would be plain suicide."

"So we're fighting cut off and surrounded again." Tucker remarked. "It's what we do best."

"We're Airborne, it's what we're here for." Harlow grinned in agreement.

"Once the Minbari land we'll have more solid objectives." Fox said. "But we will be dropping behind enemy lines, disrupting Minbari supplies, throwing spanners in the works, generally making nuisances of ourselves. While we do that the 49th Infantry Division and 2nd Panzer Division will launch a full scale assault through our sector. Once we link up we fight on foot as infantry support for the armour until game over."

It was going to be a hard fight. So far the Minbari had won every battle of the war, and even though on the ground things were more even than in space the human armies had still failed to achieve anything more than temporary local victories. To really change the course of the war required a massive victory, one that gutted the manpower reserves of the Warrior Caste by grinding them into the dirt of Proxima. Earth Force had the tools, the training and the will to do it, but nobody knew yet whether or not they had the simple ability to win.

"Tonight is probably your last night off duty for a while." Fox spoke quietly. "Take it for what it is. Enjoy yourselves, try to have a little fun, and in two days be ready to fight. This is it, the line in the sand. We're making our stand on this ball of rock, and if we can't stop them then we're finished. No turning back, no surrendering. All we can do is fight. I'll see you all in two days. Dismiss."

.

.

Station Proxima Prime

.

"You can't beat fate."

Catherine Sakai rolled over on the pillow and glared at him.

"To quote your brother, that's bollocks."

Jeffrey Sinclair split a wide smile. "Stop stealing our catchphrases."

"You can beat fate, every single time you want to."

"It's written in the stars." Sinclair informed her. "We've all got our destiny planned out, whether we like it or not."

"Wrong, wrong, wrong." Catherine wagged her finger at him. "I make my own destiny."

"So how do you explain this?" Sinclair gestured at the bed they were laying in. "Destiny."

She frowned. "More like alcohol."

He laughed lightly, savouring the release from his concerns.

"Everytime we meet it's the same, we say we'll just be friends this time, all we'll do is talk. Then its dinner, and a couple of drinks, and before you know it... Fate."

She sighed in irritation. "You're just annoyingly earnest and sincere. It's endearing."

"And you're infuriatingly carefree."

"We are nothing alike."

"And yet share everything in common." Sinclair spoke in wry amusement. "Cupid has a real sense of humour."

"If I ever meet the little creep I'm gong to wrap that little bow around his neck." Catherine fumed. "Trouble maker."

"Fate."

"This is what happens when you face impending death." She continued. "You make crazy decisions."

Sinclair laughed. "We met long before the war! How do you explain that?"

She huffed. "I blame your charming side. You should have been a diplomat." She paused. "Or maybe a stage actor, I always said you have a voice that people can't not listen to."

"And I suppose you're living proof of that."

Catherine smiled. "Just a little."

She lay back and gazed at the roof. They were in standard guest quarters on the station, cramped, bland and cold without heart or personality. None of it mattered of course, they were too interested in each others company to complain at the surroundings.

"Five years we've been doing this. Stolen moments, crossing paths every few months then separating again. Then new orders come through, you go one way, I go the other, then what?"

"We wait until next time."

"And if there is no next time?"

"Then I'll find you in the next life."

She smiled easily. "Stop being so damn romantic."

"We both tried to deny it, but it hasn't happened." Sinclair stated the obvious. "We can't keep away."

"This relationship is bad for both of us."

"It's not a relationship, it's a whirlwind." He countered. "You don't dictate terms and limits to a storm."

"Yeah, you just pick up the pieces when it fades away."

Sinclair turned his own head to face her. "Little more depressed than usual?"

"Impending death has that effect on me."

"Ah, yes. That." Sinclair accepted. "We've survived the war so far, no reason why we can't again."

"This next fight is going to be the worst one yet." Catherine shared. "No one's going to run, everything is too desperate now. It's a fight to the death and the way things are we're the ones who are going to get it, not the Minbari."

"The brass has planned for this, our new tactics…"

"Jeff, you know you can't lie to me."

He eased his expression. "How did you get to know me this well?"

She shrugged. "Fate?"

It was of course a question never far from Sinclair's mind, whether or not they could win the war and whether or not he would live to know one way or the other. Mortality was never far from the thoughts of any combatant, but most buried those dark uncertainties beneath the surface of their consciousness. It didn't help to dwell on such concepts before a battle in case they harmed a persons confidence, which was of course a sure way to get killed in action. It wasn't exactly denial, but it was a deliberate disregard for the issue.

"I'm going to survive." Sinclair said firmly.

"You believe that?"

"Believing it makes it true." He answered. "If you want something badly enough it happens."

"If that was true we'd be winning, everyone wants that badly."

"War isn't over yet."

"But the result is."

Sinclair frowned. "What happened to making your own destiny, that nothing is set in stone?"

"Doesn't apply to facts." She said. "We're losing bad Jeff, we can't stop them."

"We can and we will."

"Why?"

"Because this isn't our destiny."

"Oh well, that seals it then." Catherine snapped in annoyance. "Why don't you walk up to the Minbari leaders and tell them destiny has other plans for you and everyone else?"

He smiled, diffusing her anger at once. "I have faith. We are going to win here, we are going to stop them at Proxima."

"And what if we don't?"

"Then it's the end of humanity, and that is just wrong. It's not justice, it can't be allowed to happen."

"Who decides that? Who decides what is right and wrong? God? You? The Bunny Men?"

"I'd say all of the above." Sinclair replied simply. "We don't deserve to die, so we won't."

"That's just crazy."

"That's just fate."

She sighed. "Yeah, here it is, now I'm angry and depressed. Another successful meeting with Jeffrey Sinclair comes to an end the same way it always does. Half the time I can't stand you, other half I can't resist you! It's like we got married without me noticing!"

Sinclair chuckled at the idea. "That's disturbingly accurate."

"It's like we're running through the same play every time we meet, just with different scenery." Catherine said in morbid amusement. "I can predict everything you're going to say or do to the second."

"Actually we missed a stage." Sinclair remarked. "How's your Aunt?"

She smiled. "I forgot about that. She's good, I heard from her a few days ago."

"She still running around on that junker?"

"If you mean the Race, yes she is, and that ship is better maintained than any warship Lieutenant Commander."

"Aye, aye Ma'am."

"That little ship has seen more action than any other vessel in space. Of course if I told you more I'd have to kill you." She exhaled. "How's your brother?"

"Malcolm is in Delta sector, he made First Officer on the Boudica."

"That's good." Catherine sounded pleased. "And Delta sector is on the far side of our space, well away from the Minbari."

"It is, but unfortunately it's right on the Ch'lonas border." Sinclair growled. "Those bastards have been hitting our colonies out there, they know we're weak, they can sense blood and want to take some of our border worlds."

"Vultures." She spat.

"People back home are so focused on the Minbari they forget the Ch'lonas and Koulani. We're fighting a war on three fronts, and we don't have the ships to reinforce the border sectors."

"Everything is facing the Minbari." Catherine agreed.

"Meanwhile Malcolm and the rest of the Delta Sector fleet are fighting off a stellar empire with less than thirty warships, Thirty!"

"They're all heroes." Catherine said simply. "Remember the days when the odds were on our side?"

"Barely." He admitted. "All I see now is the war, like there was never anything else."

Catherine Sakai understood the truth in his words. Her whole world was fuel mixes, angles of attack, evasive patterns and memorial services. She had been so intense for so long civilian life seemed an eternity away, a previous incarnation. But one thing she did still have were her dreams, the future that she desired and that above all else she fought for. She wanted her own ship, she wanted to head off into unchartered space and be the first living being to look on a new world, to survey a new star, to tread ground untouched across the infinity of time by any other soul. She was an adventurer, an explorer in body and soul, not a soldier. She fought because she wanted those dreams, and she fought for everyone else to have the same chance of fulfilling their own wishes as she desired.

"I've been assigned to the Midrange base." She announced. "They finally declared it operational."

The base was a giant station, an experiment to try and build an entirely self supporting colony in deep space. It was a basic O'Neill type station incorporating a long rotating cylinder rather than the less spacious ring stations that were standard templates for human construction. When the war started the half finished stations were taken over by the military, one at Proxima and the other at Beta Durani, and modified to operate as naval bases. Each about three miles long they could keep a full squadron of raiding cruisers operational for months and even had engines to keep the stations mobile, albeit very, very slowly.

They had been developed from the titanic mobile bases proposed in the Dilgar war to support deep strikes by the short legged EA warships and it was with irony that they were being employed in exactly that kind of role, only within the heartlands of human space. An even more gigantic six mile long contra-rotating station had also been designed, but there was simply not enough money, resources or time to create it.

"That's a ten hour journey in a Fury, better watch your air supplies."

"They had to move it that far out so the Minbari wouldn't guess it was there." She said. "The Beta one is still functional last I heard."

"We're getting transferred to a Marauder unit." Sinclair said. "We're going to hide out somewhere in the system and hit the Minbari supply lines."

"We get together, then end up split apart again." Catherine sighed. "I can't tell if I'm glad or not."

"I'm not." Sinclair admitted.

"Is meeting like this really healthy for us?"

"I don't care. We've got five hours until we need to report for duty and I'm going to spend them well."

"Do we have a future Jeff?" She asked honestly. "Does any of this?"

He smiled. "Yes."

"Why? You always sound so sure."

He hit a control and dimmed the lights around them.

"Just destiny."

.

.

On the other side of the station General Denisov downed a burning shot of Vodka, the clear cool liquid hitting all the right notes on the way down.

"Now that is good stuff!"

Before him almost two hundred officers laughed, cheered or clapped. They were a mix of faces, different genders, different religions, different races and creeds, but all in the same blue uniforms and all bearing the same blue and gilt badges.

"Genuine Russian blend, not some foreign copy." His long time aide Commander Dan Weinstein explained for all to hear. "I had one of the Belters bring it over from home."

The General took another eye watering swig. "You know back in the Great Patriotic War I think they ran tanks off this stuff!"

His remark generated another round of applause.

"I think I'll save the rest until later." He concluded. "While I still have my sight."

He placed the gift on the table and stood, drawing the attention of the room to himself again. He straightened his tunic and looked over the several long dining tables set up in the conference hall. A few officers were still finishing their desserts but most had long since finished the extravagant banquet Earth Force Command had treated them to before the eve of battle. No one had said it of course, but most were well aware this was the government sanctioned version of the condemned man's last meal.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Seventh Fleet, I trust this feast was to your liking?" Denisov began.

A roar of cheers and a banging of palms on tables signalled in the affirmative.

"Glad to hear it!" Denisov laughed. "And thanks to Dan here for the drink, thorn in my side though he is, at least he's an efficient thorn!"

"With good taste in booze!" An unknown voice called to much amusement.

"Though I'm beginning to suspect he siphoned it from the reactor of a Starfury!" Denisov joked, drawing a raised glass from his aide.

"Many different paths have brought us here." Denisov said more seriously. "I look around and I see faces I recognise from the Dilgar war, some from graduation ceremonies between wars, some from the early part of this conflict. Many of you I am meeting for the first time, officers promoted and transferred from other fleets, some of you selected from the academy command programme."

The Command programme was a reflection or the hard times the EA was facing, with some five percent of academy graduates being posted to command positions without any experience beyond their test scores. They were usually assigned escort ships or rookie squadrons of fighters, and unsurprisingly their life expectancy was alarmingly short even by this war's standards.

"You all started in different places, followed different paths, but they all met here. You all represent different corners of the Alliance, from every colony world we own, free or occupied. You stand…" he smiled. "You sit here as a true cross section of Earth Force, of humanity itself. Different, unique, individual, yet united.

"It is in this unity we gain strength. Our purpose gives us courage, for it is a war to defend all we know and hold higher than life or death. It is through our diversity that we gain knowledge, many different ideas and viewpoints combining to offer a reasoned plan of action. It is then in our courage that we, and all of humanity, gains hope.

"No one can guarantee a victory for us, no one knows if we will stand or fall, live or die in the face of this great test. It does not matter. What matters is that we set an example, that we show the people back home, and the Minbari, and everyone else that we are not beaten! Every battle we fight, every shot we fire is a signal as clear as the sun that we will not abandon our homes and families to destruction! Every life we take is one less Minbari to stare hatefully at Earth and one less target for our brothers and sisters to worry about in future battles.

"Our goal fellow officers is very simply to kill as many Minbari as possible. Nothing else matters. We must face unconquerable odds, make super human efforts and sacrifice the greatest gifts we have to battle this enemy without even the certainty of final victory to ease our minds."

Denisov held his head high.

"But what choice do we have? We have tried to negotiate, to reason with the Minbari. We have pleaded with them, even begged for mercy. We have offered unconditional surrender and yet all our words have fallen on deaf ears. So much death, so much slaughter, and for what? For one life, for one mistake, for one moment of failure. How is that worth the extermination of an entire species down to the last newborn child?

"When we fought the Dilgar it was for clear reasons. They were monsters, murderers and torturers of the highest order. Their cruelty deserved to be punished, the blood of tens of billions of innocent lives stained their hands. Have we committed crimes like that?

"The Dilgar were also invaders and expansionists, a race bent on galactic conquest and domination. Living space, that was their rallying cry, and they would build their new empire on the bones of everyone else. We did not try to conquer the Minbari, we did not send Mass Drivers to obliterate their cities. We have never threatened our neighbours with war or conquest, yet here we stand under attack with no allies.

"We have done nothing to deserve the severity of the war forced upon us. We stand alone in the galaxy facing the avalanche, pushed back to our inner defences. We have not earned this fate, yet it is upon us, so what shall we do?

"If we run they will chase us, if we hide they will hunt us. We cannot move the Earth, we cannot take it upon our shoulders like Atlas and deliver to safety far from here. We can break down and weep, fall to the ground and wail about the injustice of it all, but that only means that when our final time comes it finds us on our knees cringing. Not me, that is not how I will meet my end. We have a choice, it is not a good choice, but it is a choice about whether we meet the Minbari on our feet or on our knees!

"The battle for Proxima will be decided on the ground. Our ships are too few and too ineffective to prevent an invasion. Our goal is to hold the Minbari as long as we can, to buy time for one final evacuation ship to escape, for one last family to seek refuge elsewhere in the Alliance. It isn't much of a grand strategic objective to fight for, but in the final analysis it's what every single one of us signed up to do."

"We did not choose this war, but we can at least choose whether to fight or to give up. We all know what's coming, I wish I could say this feast was simply because you are all good officers and good human beings, but we know that it isn't. None of us will see this again, not in this life at least. I am here because this was my plan, because I am responsible for this strategy and I will not make any man or woman take risks which I myself am not ready to make.

"Earth does not need one more General or strategist, if we lose here nothing will save humanity, not even me. Better an old Captain who can fight a warship here and try to make a difference, than an old General stood on Earth cursing as all turns to darkness. As I said we all have a choice, and mine is to fight.

"the odds are against us, but if by our actions others may live, then so be it. If this is what must be done to ensure the survival of humanity then I will do it gladly with joy in my heart! Let the Minbari come! Let them send their Warriors to this place and we will show them steel and fury!

"We are not a warrior world, we are a people of exploration and curiosity. We are businessmen and artisans, teachers and healers, scholars and adventurers. But today we are soldiers and we will fight better than our enemies who have spent lifetimes building up for this moment. All the calls to duty, all the heritage and meditation the Minbari have is nothing compared to the pure courage of a man or woman defending their home and family. We will show them that, we will show everyone that, and nobody will ever forget what we did here. We did not simply confront death, we fought it tooth and nail, we made it work hard to take us. We have just moments, moments in which we can make a difference. But by our deeds those moments will last for eternity. No one will remember the fact that the Minbari swept us aside, all they will remember is that we never stopped fighting."

The entire system prepared itself for the onslaught, each world, station, ship and outpost put its affairs in order and made peace. Some people partied through the hours and some would continue to do so even during the attack, ignoring the Minbari and determined simply to go from the world deliriously happy. Other people prepared sombrely, stockpiling necessary supplies and materials for the siege.

More than three quarters of the civilian population remained on Proxima. There were simply too many of them to move and many Proximans simply didn't see the point. They could be killed here in their homes, of be killed when the Minbari reached Earth and levelled the surface. It didn't count as much of a choice. Some of the small outer settlements had bunkers and shelters where people could withdraw to if required, normally those settlements were within the expected battlezones where Earth Force and the Warrior Caste would duel to the death for mastery of the planet. The cities on the other hand did not. So far the Minbari had avoided levelling cities and provided there were no military forces there or nearby there was no reason for that to change, at least not yet.

Earth Force gave the Minbari no excuse to target the cities, choosing to make its stand well away from any major population centres. Likewise the Minbari did not have the patience or from their point of view the need to occupy the settlements. They would all be flattened one day soon anyway, there was no need to expend the effort. The civilians went to ground, leaving most of the planet silent and deserted as the sun fell over the capital. A warm savannah breeze fanned the city, but few appreciated it. There was scant little comfort in the world as the population drew its collective breath.

The Belt Alliance still worked feverishly overhead, trying to tow away pieces of shipyard or carry away thousands of civilians. There had been a lottery to select which households had a right to leave, women and children only of course. Those men left behind as too old for military service or women in essential jobs were given second hand weapons and a brief tutorial on how to use them. Professional soldiers would go through them in moments, but any casualties they inflicted would be worth it. Anything to hurt the Minbari was worth it.

The stations were empty of all save military personnel, the shops and services were shut, wrappers and papers lay untended on the floor and hangar bays were filled with just fighters and military vehicles. Warships waited in lines and blocks, large vessels surrounded by smaller ones with crews taking their final rest before battle. Private messages were recorded, packed up and sent home on departing Belt Alliance vessels, bundles of thoughts and farewell destined for home.

On the station General Denisov stood by the door shaking the hands of every one of his guests in turn, wishing them looking and giving them his confidence that all would do their duty. He memorised their faces, imprinting their eyes and expressions into his mind so he would know who he was leading into battle, and they would know him.

The soldiers of the Third Army dug in on the surface, raw recruits fresh out of civilian life they were still smart enough to know their chances of survival were slim. Even if the battle was won Third Army was expected to take massive casualties, meeting the Minbari assault head on to draw them into the grand ambush.

In countless tunnels and caverns the assault troops waited, resting beside armoured vehicles, enjoying makeshift bars, or recording their thoughts in private. Michael Garibaldi fought hard to resist the urge to simply show up in a bar and drink himself into oblivion, an effort that was well hidden from his comrades. The war had sobered him up, made him realise the important things in the universe around him and showed him alcohol was no escape, not from the danger heading his way.

Vehicles stood ready, tanks brimming with fuel and lockers packed with ammunition. Long rows of rifles, helmets, body armour and assorted other equipment waited patiently to be picked up and used in action. Food rations were stockpiled high, munitions handed out to front line staging areas, maps uploaded to the battle net for easy access in the field.

Chaplains plied their trade in the ranks in one area, while black marketers plied theirs elsewhere. People found their comfort wherever they could, eased their worries in whatever way best suited them and for this once it was allowed. Provided they were ready for duty the following day Earth Force turned a blind eye to everything except crime.

Somewhere a guitar strummed slowly, a female voice giving sound to an old solemn song that carried through the caverns and between the expectant vehicles. Even amid the noise there was peace, tranquillity, an acceptance of the inevitable. There was just one thing left to do now and that was to fight. All they needed to do was wait and see when.

That time was almost upon them.


End file.
